7 


«* 


HOME; 


OR, 


THE   UNLOST   PARADISL 


BY 


RAY     PALMER. 


NEW     YORK: 

ANSON   D.  F.  RANDOLPH   AND    COMPANY, 
770  BROADWAY. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

ANSON   D.    F.    RANDOLPH    AND   COMPANY, 

In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress   at  Washington. 


•Prrss  at 

JOHN    WILSON    AND   SON, 

Cambridge. 


gintorg  of 

ROBERT    RUTTER, 

82  find  84  Beekrnnn  St. 

NEW   YCRK. 


TO   THE 


ON    WHOM     CHIEFLY     THE    REALIZATION     OF    THE    DIVINE     IDEA    OF 
THE    FAMILY   AND    HOME    MUST    DEPEND; 


WHOSE  HIGHEST  DISTINCTION  IT  IS  TO  MAKE  HUMANITY  COMPLETE  : 

TO   ELEVATE,    PURIFY   AND    ADORN   DOMESTIC   LIFE  ;     AND    TO 

BLESS    ALIKE    CHILDHOOD,    MATURITY    AND    AGE,    WITH 

SWEET   AND    TENDER    MINISTRIES; 


THESE    PAGES    ARE   MOST    RESPECTFULLY    INSCRIBED    BY 


THE  AUTHOR. 


2132032 


PREFACE. 


'T^HIS  POEM  was  conceived  and  partly  executed 
several  years   ago ;    but   through   the   constant 
pressure  of  official  labors,  it  has  lain  uncompleted  till 
•a'  recent  date.     Perhaps  the  delay  has  been  no  real 
disadvantage,  since  special  circumstances  have  of  late 
given  fresh  interest,  and,  if  possible,  enhanced  impor- 
tance to  the  theme. 

The  writer  has  desired  to  present  such  a  picture  of 
Home  as  npt  only  may  be,  but  actually  has  been,  sub- 
stantially realized  in  instances  almost  without  number. 
The  sketch  is  supposed  to  have  had  its  original  in 
New  England,  —  not  because  such  Homes  are  not  now 
widely  found  beyond  her  boundaries,  but  because, 
historically,  our  American  Homes  there  first  exhibited 
their  highest  moral  power  and  beauty  ;  so  that  it  may 
be  fairly  claimed  that  from  her,  as  its  source,  has 
flowed  the  purest  and  best  social  life  of  our  country. 
The  early  settlers  laid  the  foundations  of  society  in 
learning  and  religion ;  and  it  may  reasonably  be 


6  PREFACE. 

doubted  whether  there  has  ever  been  another  spot  of 
equal  extent  on  the  globe,  in  which  so  great  a  number 
of  intelligent  and  virtuous  Homes  could  have  been 
counted.  The  healthful  influence  of  New  England 
domestic  life  now  reaches  the  newly  rising  States  to 
the  very  shores  of  the  Pacific. 

To  those  who  have  known  the  joys  and  permanent 
benefits  of  well-ordered  and  happy  Homes,  the  writer 
trusts  that  the  reading  of  these  pages  may  afford  a 
tranquil  pleasure.  It  is  well  to  revive  and  cherish  the 
sweet  recollections  of  childhood  and  youth,  to  reCctlt 
the  vicissitudes  of  after  years,  and  to  bring  back  the 
dear  faces  of  the  loved  and  honored  who  have  passed 
away  from  earth.  Such  reminiscences  tend  to  make 
the  heart  better. 

If  what  has  here  been  written  shall  help,  even  in 
the  least  degree,  to  elevate  in  the  minds  of  young 
men  and  women  the  ideal  of  the  family  and  Home, 
and  to  deepen  in  the  hearts  of  any  a  conviction  of  the 
sacredness  and  beauty  of  a  pure  domestic  life  and 
the  peril  to  every  interest  of  humanity  involved  in  the 
desecration  of  household  sanctities,  the  author  will 
thankfully  recognize  the  accomplishment  of  his  highest 
purpose. 


CONTENTS. 


PART   I. 

Prelude  —  Home  Earth's  Brightest  Spot  —  Everywhere 
Dear  —  Primitive  New  England  —  The  Pilgrim  Fathers  — 
Misjudged  and  Wronged  —  In  Advance  of  their  Time  — 
Their  Descendants  —  A  New  England  Home  and  its  Sur- 
roundings—  Domestic  Life  Ordained  of  God  —  Edward 
and  Mary,  the  Newly  Married  Pair —  Humanity  Complete 
only  in  the  Union  of  Man  and  Woman  —  A  Home's 
History  Begun 1 1 

PART    II. 

The  Joy  of  Wedded  Hearts  —  Morning,  and  Waking  Nature  — 
Their  Charms  Heightened  by  Youthful  Sensibility  and  by 
Love — Home  Not  the  Abode  of  Indolence  —  Its  Tasks 
and  Burdens  —  Woman  its  Queen — Her  Court  and 
Duties  —  Her  Legitimate  Aspirations  —  Husband  and 
Wife  in  their  Reciprocal  Ministries  and  Influence  —  The 
First-born  —  Father  and  Mother — Enlargement  of  the 
Family  Circle  —  Death  of  a  Child — Christian  Faith  and 
Hope 27 


CONTENTS. 


PART   III. 

Healing  Power  of  Time  and  Occupation  —  Delights  of  Child- 
hood —  Seclusion  of  Home  —  Innocent  .Sports  —  Parents 
should  Provide  and  Share  Them  —  Restlessness  and 
Aspiration  of  Youth  —  Refinement  by  Contact  —  Edith 
and  Alfred  —  Dawning  Manhood  and  Womanhood  — 
Peculiar  Beauty  of  Youth  —  Holidays  —  Thanksgiving  — 
Christmas  —  New  Year's  —  The  Sabbath  —  Woman's  In- 
fluence —  The  Time  to  Love  —  Edith  and  Arthur  —  The 
Betrothal  .....  ...........  .  .  67 


PART   IV. 

The  Bridal  —  Household  Separations  —  Diverse  Tastes  and 
Pursuits  —  Time  Giving  and  Taking  —  Pleasures  of  Ap- 
proaching Age  —  Ella  and  Filial  Duty  —  Womanly  Self- 
Sacrifice  and  its  High  Rewards  —  The  Indian  Summer  ot 
Life  —  Vital  Decay  —  Mary  Translated  —  Looking  and 
t  Longing  —  Edward  Sleeps  —  Home  Scenes  concluded  — 
Ella  the  Heroic  —  The  Christian  Home  the  Hope  t>f 
Humanity  —  The  Eternal  Home,  with  Christ  and  the 
Family  of  God  ................  99 


PART    I. 


DOMESTIC  happiness,  thou  only  bHss 

Of  Paradise  that  has  survived  the  fall ! 

Cowper. 

LOVE  is  life's  end  :  an  end  but  never  ending  ; 
'  All  joys,  all  sweets,  all  happiness  awarding  ; 
Love  is  life's  wealth,  ne'er  spent  but  ever  spending, 
More  rich  by  giving,  taking  by  discarding  ; 
Love's  life's  reward,  rewarded  in  rewarding. 

Spenser. 


•  ; 


HOME. 


PART   I. 

,  gentle  lyre  !  sequestered  from  the  world, 
Tired  of  its  tumults  and  its  pomps  and  pride, 
Thee,  wonted  solace  of  "my  careworn  heart, 
Glad  I  resume  :  intent  not  now  to  strike 
With  hurried  hand  thy  strings,  nor  thee  to  make 
Loud  resonant  of  numbers  strange  or  wild  ; 
But,  with  such  mood  serene  and  airy  touch 
As  best  befit  soft-breathing  harmonies, 
To  wake  thy  tones  on  a  familiar  theme. 

* 
»  t 

As  whom  necessity  ordains  to  tread 
The  arid  waste  where  trackless  Libyan  sands 
Reflect  the  sun,  seek  not  in  vain  to  find, 
At  distant  intervals,  some  friendly  spots 


12  HOME. 

Where  gurgling  waters  'neath  o'ershadowing  palms 

Invite  repose ;  so,  o'er  the  wastes  of  life 

While  sent  to  roam,  where  pines  full  oft  unfilled 

Intense  desire,  and  nameless  ills  beset 

Us  hapless  wanderers  on  an  unknown  way, 

We  seek  and  find  oases  bright  and  fair. 

Most  fair,  most  bright,  art  thou,  dear  peaceful  Home, 
Of  all  best  earthly  gifts  by  Heaven  bestowed 
Man's  pilgrim  path  to  cheer.     Ever  thou  art 
A  refuge  from  the  storm ;  from  the  rough  wind 
A  covert.     All  who  may,  in  each  dark  hour 
When  sorrows  bow  the  soul,  or  when  of  care 
The  lighter  burden  wearily  doth  press, 
Fly  to  thy  bosom,  and  secluded  find 
In  thy  sweet  influence  solace  and  repose. 
Who  know  thee  not  —  alas,  that  such  should'be  !  — 
Pine  for  thee,  and  still  hope,  though  hope  deferred 
Hath  oft  made  sick  the  heart,  that  yet  for  them 
Some  spot  shall  bear  thy  well-beloved  name. 
The  wanderer  thinks  of  thee.     With  him  he  bears 


HOME.  13 

A  thousand  hallowed  memories,  fondly  kept, 

That  waken  oft  afresh.     E'en  while  he  treads, 

With  heedful  musings,  old  historic  ground, 

Rich  with  the  spoils  of  Time,  where  crumbling  stand 

The  hoary  monuments  of  glories  dead ; 

Or  climbs  'mid  Alpine  wonders,  and  surveys 

Rude  wilds  where  Nature  all  untamed  abides ; 

In  search  of  thee  his  truant  thought  will  stray. 

Or  if  he  tempt  the  main,  far,  far  away 

Swept  by  the  breeze  across  the  heaving  deep, 

Fixed  on  his  lonely  watch  at  midnight  hour, 

The  watery  waste  around,  the  stars  above, 

Back  o'er  the  flood  he  roams  to  visit  thee. 

For  thee  the  captive  sighs  in  the  still  gloom 

Of  his  dim  cell.     The  warrior  grim,  what  time 

He  treads  the  battle-field  where  marshalled  hosts 

Await  the  bloody  fray  —  pride  on  his  brow 

And  glory  on  his  crest  —  lets  fall  a  tear, 

While  o'er  him  steal,  like  flute-notes  faintly  heard, 

Remembrances  thick-coming  of  thy  joys. 

Dear  rest  and  centre  thou  of  faithful  hearts, 


14  HOME. 

Where'er  thy  seat ;  as  well  'neath  tropic  suns 
As  where  Arcadian  realms  boast  genial  skies, 
Or  arctic  winter  spreads  eternal  snows ; 
O'er  the  wide  world  thy  magic  spell  enchains. 

Not  many  years  have  rolled  since,  where  now  smile 
New  England's  happy  Homes,  the  forest  stood, 
A  mighty  wilderness.     O'er  hills  and  vales 
Spread  virgin  groves,  where  never  yet  had  rung 
The  stroke  of  woodman's  axe,  and  tangled  brakes 
And  thickets  dark,  that  many  a  covert  wove. 
There  prowled  the  cruel  wolf.     There  undisturbed 
The  bear  reared  her  fierce  progeny.     The  owl 
Hooted  from  his  lone  seat  upon  the  pine, 
And  echo  answered  back.     The  eagle  soared 
And  screamed,  or,  pouncing  on  his  quivering  prey, 
Perched  on  some  naked  cliff  and  fed  secure. 
Along  the  river,  gliding  broad  and  slow, 
Or  up  the  rapid  brook,  that  babbling  loud 
Rushed  from  the  mountain  headlong  to  the  plain, 
The  trout  and  salmon  darted  unensnared. 


: 

HOME,  15 

Of  human  kind  sole  tenant  of  the  wild, 

The  lordly  savage  reigned,  and  urged  the  chase, 

• 

Of  useful  toil  impatient ;  or,  when  wa'r 
Roused  his  dark  passions,  from  his  ambuscade 
Treacherous,  he  darted,  and,  with  horrid  yell, 
Vengeful  and  unrelenting  scalped  his  foe. 
No  peaceful  Home  was  then.     The  dingy  squaw, 
The  menial  of  her  lord,  now  left  to  guard 
The  smoky  wigwam,  now  with  blows  compelled 
Him  vagrant  to  attend  with  weary  load, 
Dragged  out,  a  semi-brute,  her  wretched  life. 

For  man,  for  woman,  God  all-good  ordained 
A  worthier  destiny.     By  sacred  ties, 
In  household  life  and  harmony  of  love 
He  formed  them  to  be  joined  ;  society 
Made  sure  by  nature's  law ;  and  so  decreed 
That  states  and  kingdoms  should  successive  rise ; 
That  mind  with  mind  in  sympathy  should  wake 
New  energies,  the  needs  of  men  impel 
To  foster  arts,  and  search  creation  through 


V  L. 


1 6  HOME.  * 

For  knowledge  of  his  own  eternal  thoughts. 
He  meant  not  the  prolific  earth  should  lie 
Incultivate,  but,  tilled  with  patient  care., 
Should  smile  with  flowers  as  erst  an  Eden  smiled, 
And  yield  the  culturing  hand  a  rich  reward. 
Twas  His  behest  that  bade  the  forest  bow, 
The  savage  beast  retire,  and  savage  men 
Give  place  to  cultivation,  order,  laws. 


••• 


A  lonely  bark  came  o'er  the  stormy  sea ; 
Not  freighted  deep  with  pelf;  it  richer  bore, 
What  famed  Golconda's  treasures  could  not  buy, 
A  band  of  noble  hearts.     Men  trod  that  deck 
Who  knew  that  they  were  men,  and  freely  gave 
For  liberty  and  truth  what  else  was  dear. 
No  factious  spirits,  who,  through  spleen  or  pride, 
Contemned  their  country's  laws  and  roamed  to  find 
What  earth's  circumference  within,  for  them, 
Was  nowhere  to  be  found,  content  and  peace. 
Of  England's  best,  to  her  they  fondly  clung, 
Proud  of  her  glorious  names  and  old  renown ; 


HOME.  17 

And  as  her  loyal  sons  their  lives  had  spent, 
And  with  her  honored  dead  had  peaceful  slept 
'Neath  hallowed  aisles  in  stoned  chapels  dim, 
Less  had  they  loved  what  most  ennobles  man  — 
Freedom  of  soul,  pure  faith,  and  peace  with  heaven. 
Hatred  hath  called  them  stern ;  their  sturdy  strength 
Of  principle  hath  bigotry  misnamed  ; 
And  levity,  with  leer  and  jibe  profane, 
Blasphemed  their  sanctity  and  saintly  zeal. 
"Tis  rather  bigotry  that  dares  deny 
Their  nobleness,  their  glory  that  would  stain.       * 
Warm  were  their  hearts ;  none  warmer  e'er  did  beat 
In  manly  breasts  ;  and  humble  though  their  Homes, 
By  hard  necessity,  yet  love  and  beauty  there 
Found  place  for  sweet  unfolding,  nor  was  mirth 
A  stranger  at  those  hearths  where  nightly  blazed 
The  fires  that  made  a  fireside  worth  the  name. 
Knowledge,  religion,  virtue — wheresoe'er 
These  dwell  together,  dwell  earth's  best  delights. 
Not  faultless  were  they,  else  were  they  not  men  ; 
Yet  less  their  own  the  faults  than  of  their  time  ? 


1 8  HOME. 

Of  times  long  past,  when  many  an  error  reigned 
As  yet  unchallenged,  blinding  all  alike 
To  truths  since  seen  as  in  the  midday  blaze. 
Beyond  their  fellows,  keenly  had  they  pierced 
Error's  thick-veiling  mists,  and  Truth  discerned 
In  her  diviner  forms ;  aside  had  flung 
Falsehoods  long  honored,  maxims  cherished  long 
That  mighty  ills  had  wrought;  the  good,  the  right, 
In   their   great   hearts  they  worshipped ;    these   they 

sought, 

As  misers  search  for  gold,  with  deathless  love ; 
Clung  to  them  found,  as  with  the  grasp  of  fate  ! 
What  if  perchance  from  ardor  so  intense 
Of  quenchless  earnestness,  their  zeal  o'erglowed 
At  times,  and  they  —  their  vision  not  yet  clear  — 
There  erred  where  all  the  world  had  erred  till  then? 
Ah  !  ye  who  meanly  seek  to  tear  away 
The  honors  thickly  clustered  round  their  brows, 

Yours  —  yours  the  lack  of  heavenly  charity 

• 
Ye  charge  on  them  ;  yours  with  far  less  defence  ! 

On  you  returned  at  last  shall  rest  the  shame  ; 


HOME.  19 

And  as  the  sun  from  the  clear  mirror  wipes 
The  envious  vapor  that  its  lustre  dimmed, 
Just  Time  their  names  to  honor  shall  restore.* 

Such  were  thy  sires,  New  England ;  such  the  men 
That  tamed  thy  wilds  ;  thy  slopes  and  valleys  robed 
With  waving  fields  ;  made  e'en  thy  rugged  hills 
Look  kind;  thy  teeming  cities  with  their  marts, 
Their  industries  and  commerce,  rise  and  thrive. 
Rich  among  lands  art  thou  in  sweet  content, 
In  health  and  plenty,  born  of  patient  toil. 
Rich  in  thy  stalwart  sons  and  daughters  fair, 
That  o'er  the  world,  where'er  their  feet  may  tread, 
Bear  with  them  blessing.     Known  of  all  are  they, 
Of  keen  intelligence  and  purpose  firm. 
About  their  footsteps  truth  and  freedom  spring, 
And  law's  firm  voice  is  heard  —  her  word  obeyed  ; 
Wide  sown  are  wisdom's  seeds,  and  useful  arts, 
With  many  a  curious,  many  a  rare  device, 
Lend  force  to  labor,  or  embellish  life. 

*  See  Appendix,  note  A. 


•' 


' It? 

20  HOME. 

Their  Mother  they  forget  not ;  but  from  far, 

Where,  ocean-like,  the  boundless  Prairie  spreads, 

Where  rock-ribbed  mountains  lift  their  frowning  forms, 

And  sunset  regions  kiss  the  western  wave, 

Their  hearts  with  many  a  yearning  backward  turn, 

True  to  her  still ;  and  all  her  scenes  recalled 

Look  fairer  seen  in  memory's  mellow  light. 

A  Holy  Land  she  seems,  where  God  abides  ; 

Nor  seems  alone.     Holy  well  named  a  land 

Where  lives  a  faith  divine ;  where  graceful  rise 

Religion's  hallowed  domes,  and  close  at  hand 

The  school-house,  fit  ally,  within  whose  walls 

Kind  culture  early  moulds  the  plastic  mind 

To  virtue  and  to  truth  ;  where  stand  embowered 

The  mantled  cottage  and  the  tasteful  Home. 

Dear  tranquil  scenes  !     Home,  o'er  the  world  a  name 

That  like  a  talisman  calls  to  the  soul 

All  images  of  bliss,  hath  here  a  spell 

Of  mightiest  working.*     Other  lands  may  boast 

More  friendly  soils ;  and  blander  airs  may  breathe 

*  Appendix,  note  B 


HOME.  21 

Upon  their  spicy  beds  that  odors  yield 

More  fragrant  far ;  and  birds  of  rarer  note 

Among  their  groves  pour  richer  melodies  ; 

And  lordlier  dwellings  rise.     But  where  hath  earth 

A  soil  more  free,  a  clime  that  ministers 

More  vigor  to  the  frame,  or  fosters  more 

True  energy  of  soul?     Where  Nature's  face 

A  nobler  aspect  —  mountain  crests  that  climb 

In  their  blue  dimness,  reverend  forests  tall 

Crowning  the  hills  with  majesty  and  grace, 

And  waterfalls  that,  with  sonorous  voice 

Softened  by  distance,  charm  the  listening  ear? 

Where  doth  the  rustic  dwelling  more  bespeak 

Substantial  comfort,  or  with  happier  art 

Where  Luxury  convenience  blend  with  taste? 

In  yon  sweet  vale  that  —  mingling  field  and  grove 
In  fair  confusion  —  fills  the  roving  eye 
With  images  of  beauty ;  on  a  slope 
Gently  declining  toward  the  midday  sun, 
A  modest  mansion  stands ;  a  rural  Home ; 


22  HOME. 

But  one  of  thousands  that  New  England  boasts  — 

The  jewels  of  her  crown  —  her  pride  and  joy. 

Nor  rude,  nor  splendid,  it  hath  yet  a  charm, 

A  quiet  loveliness.     Come,  ye  who  dream 

That  Peace,  an  exile,  dwells  with  men  no  more ; 

Ye  who  in  vain  pursue  her  through  the  maze 

Where  witching  pleasure  lures,  and  oft  deceived 

As  oft  the  eager  chase  again  renew ; 

Ye  who  would  seek  her  but  in  princely  halls, 

With  fretted  ceiling  arched  and  draperies  hung 

In  gorgeous  richness,  where  luxurious  couch 

And  orient  ottoman  invite  repose, 

With  harp,  or  lute,  by  snowy  fingers  touched, 

That  soothes  and  lulls  in  soft  voluptuous  strain  — 

Come  hither,  mark,  and  muse  and  grow  more  wise. 

Lo,  where  the  hand  of  taste  hath  graced  the  scene  ! 
The  charms  of  nature  by  judicious  skill 
Are  heightened  here ;  their  absence  there  supplied 
By  quaint  device.     The  grassy  plat  that  spreads 
In  neat  simplicity  before  the  door, 


HOME.  23 

Majestic  elms,  by  some  ancestral  hand 
Long  years  ago  transplanted,  overhang; 
Their  arching  boughs  affording  grateful  shade 
To  childhood's  laughing  groups,  that  gather  there 
In  merry  mood,  on  the  bright  summer  day, 
And  with  their  harmless  pastimes  fill  the  hours. 
The  tasteful  garden,  with  neat  fence  enclosed, 
Bespeaks  attentive  culture.     Clustering  trees, 
The  apple,  cherry,  pear,  the  tempting  peach 
And  the  delicious  plum,  are  set  to  please 
The  order-loving  eye  ;  and  'mid  the  shades 
Of  their  dark  foliage  half  conceal  the  bower, 
Round  which  the  woodbine  creeps  and  roses  twine. 
Here  thickly  set  the  grateful  currant  grows, 
And  the  sweet  raspberry.     The  vine  there  climbs 
O'er  the  arched  trellis ;  and,  when  Autumn  claims 
Her  offering  of  fruits,  hangs  richly  out 
Her  purple  clusters ;  while  yon  beds  of  flowers, 
Of  many  a  name  and  hue,  their  incense  pay 
To  genial  Summer,  when  they  drink  her  smiles. 
Here  oft  at  twilight  of  a  summer's  eve, 
While  linger  yet,  along  the  glowing  west, 


24  HOME. 

Clouds,  that  like  golden  islands  seem  to  float 

Upon  an  azure  sea,  or  spread  afar 

Like  some  imperial  pavement  wrought  with  art 

Divine,  of  precious  stones,  agate  and  amethyst, 

Sapphire  and  emerald  —  come,  arm  in  arm, 

The  beautiful  and  young.     The  peaceful  hour 

Sheds  its  sweet  influence  o'er  them.     Slowly  now, 

As  best  befits  such  converse  as  they  hold, 

They  thread  the  winding  paths,  or  seek  the  bower ; 

And  now,  as  with  some  sudden  transport  seized, 

Burst  forth  in  merry  laugh,  and  glide  along, 

Like  tripping  fairies,  in  pursuit  and  flight 

Alternate,  as  capricious  impulse  moves. 

But  gay,  or  grave,  alike  they  waken  here, 

'Mid  outward  loveliness,  pure  thoughts,  and  feel 

Quick-kindling  sympathies  their  hearts  unite. 

Here,  as  in  earth's  first  garden,  dwells  sweet  Peace, 

With  joys  of  innocence  and  social  love ; 

A  Home  is  here,  with  all  its  histories, 

Its  storied  past,  its  present,  and  to  come. 

O'er  it  have  passed  the  changing  lights  and  shades, 


HOME.  25 

Or  will  as  years  shall  run  their  circles  round, 
Which,  since  was  lost  the  primal  Paradise, 
Have  checkered  all  the  mortal  lot  of  men. 

Home,  'tis  to  heaven's  wise  law  we  mortals  owe 
Thee  and  all  thine.     In  the  first  Home  was  placed 
Not  Adam  sole  ;  with  him  the  gentler  Eve, 
Woman,  man's  other  self,  in  whom  alone 
His  complement  he  finds.     God  called,  'tis  said, 
Not  his,  but  their  name,  Adam,  in  the  day 
When  He  humanity  complete  had  made. 
E'er  since,  in  thee,  O  wedded  love,  are  laid 
The  deep  foundations  of  domestic  bliss  ; 
With  thee,  through  all  the  cycles,  have  been  hid 
Sweet  springs  of  joy  whence,  like  full  streams,  have 

flowed 

Earth's  pleasures  that  are  likest  those  of  heaven. 
For  what  is  heaven  save  innocence  and  love 
Inseparable  —  in  mystic  life  combined?  — 
The  sympathy  of  hearts  that  throb  and  glow 
With  love's  quick  impulse  ;  and  harmonious  beat, 


26  HOME. 

Each  vibrating  to  each,  as  in  the  harp 

To  one  touched  string  according  strings  respond? 

Eternal  Love,  intent  to  make  earth  blest 

With  all  best  joys,  nor  man  nor  woman  made 

For  unrelated  life,  but  each  for  each ; 

Each  only  in  the  other  without  lack 

Of  somewhat  that,  unfound,  the  restless  heart 

Yearns  ever,  nor  can  know  a  full  content. 

O  subtile  instinct !     Hidden  law  deep  wrought 

Into  the  soul's  own  texture,  by  His  will 

Who,  Love  Himself,  man  in  his  likeness  framed 

To  dwell  in  love ;  his  native  element, 

The  vital  air,  in  which  to  live  and  move  ! 

God  and  thy  kind  both  loved  with  one  pure  flame, 

O  mortal,  thou  most  like  to  God  shalt  be, 

Blessing  and  blessed ;  and  by  thy  stony  paths 

Shall  spring  such  flowers  as  Paradise  did  yield 

Ere  with  the  reign  of  love  her  all  she  lost. 

Yon  mansion  long  ago,  one  summer  morn, 
A  morn  bright,  dewy,  fresh  with  balmy  breath 


HOME.  27 

Of  myriad  blossoms  laughing  o'er  the  fields, 

Received  a  youthful  pair.     Late  at  God's  shrine 

In  holy  rite  made  one,  hand  joined  to  hand 

As  heart  before  to  heart,  here  they  begin, 

Rich  in  fair  hopes  and  visions,  and  yet  more 

In  fresh  affections,  for  themselves  and  theirs  ^ 

A  Home  to  found  and  consecrate.     Henceforth, 

Holy  the  place  shall  be  through  opening  years, 

In  all  their  thoughts ;  sacred  to  wedded  love, 

To  tranquil  joys,  to  purity,  to  peace ; 

To  healthful  pleasures  with  each  other  shared ; 

To  useful  tasks  together  daily  wrought ; 

To  books  and  culture,  and  congenial  friends ; 

To  piety,  and  prayer,  and  heavenward  steps ; 

To  all  that  earth  yet  yields  to  faithful  hearts 

Demonstrative  that  once  an  Eden  was, 

And  proof,  by  foretaste,  that  a  heaven  shall  be. 

Edward  and  Mary  —  these  the  names  they  bore  ; 

Names,  like  their  story,  neither  new  nor  strange. 

Nor  name  nor  story  such  as  one  might  choose 

Who  with  romantic  tale,  or  legend  old, 


28  HOME. 

Or  startling  horror,  would  the  listless  rouse ; 
But  suiting  well  the  simple  and  the  true. 

O  happy  man  !     To  whom  of  God  'tis  given 
To  lead,  a  joyous  bride,  one  who  has  taught 
Thy  heart  —  that  as  in  fevered  restlessness, 
Far  roving,  stayed  not  till  her  gentle  eye 
Seized  it  and  fast  a  willing  Captive  held  — 
To  find  its  rovings  and  in  her  to  rest ! 
How  like  an  angel  in  the  robes  of  heaven 
She  stands  beside  thee  —  thine  own  angel  now  ! 
How  beats  with  manly  pride  thy  heart,  the  while 
Thou  lead'st  her  from  the  altar  to  the  seat, 
Her  fitting  throne,  at  Home's  dear  centre  placed; 
Where,  as  a  queen,  ruling  without  command, 
She,  radiant  as  the  morning  star,  shall  shine, 
Mighty  in  gentleness,  in  sweetness  strong. 
It  is  but  meet  that  on  her  maiden  brow, 
And  in  the  eyes  that  kindle  at  thy  glance, 
Thou  shouldst  enraptured  gaze ;  and  gazing  find 
Thy  soul  with  nobler  manliness  inspired, 


HOME.  29 

And  high  ambitions  all  unfelt  before. 
Henceforth,  for  thee  shall  each  returning  dawn 
Wake  worthiest  thoughts.     Not  for  thyself  alone, 
Thou  shalt  go  forth  life's  battle-fields  to  try ; 
But  with  chivalric  tread  and  lance  in  rest, 
For  her,  to  death  if  need,  in  gallant  strife 
Thou  shalt  defend  all  honor,  truth  and  right ; 
Win  all  that  may  on  her  true  lustre  shed ; 
And  shield  her  from  all  ills  that  courage  firm, 
And  strength  of  love,  and  patience  can  avert. 
For  God  and  her !    What  impulse  canst  thou  lack 
To  wrestle  with  all  dangers,  to  withstand 
Pleasure's  seductive  call,  and  Duty's  voice 
With  quenchless  ardor  ever  to  obey ! 

Thou  too,  O  woman,  of  thy  kind  most  blest, 
Who  in  thy  spring  of  beauty  standest  glad 
Beside  thy  well  beloved  and  call'st  him  now 
Thy  husband  !     Name  so  rich  to  thy  fond  heart, 
In  promise  of  best  joys  that  earth  can  know. 
To  thee  no  music  like  the  bridegroom's  voice  ; 


30  HOME. 

To  that  thy  tremulous  heart  instant  responds, 

As  to  the  soft  west  wind  the  swelling  strain 

Waked  on  the  harp-string  breathes  its  sweetness  back. 

In  him  thy  strength  thou  seest.     The  sturdy  arm 

To  which  thou  cling'st  confiding,  thine  shall  be 

In  danger's  hour  for  succor  and  defence ; 

For  kind  support  when  on  the  toilsome  way 

Thy  steps  would  falter,  or  thy  heart  grow  faint. 

His  wisdom,  courage,  manhood,  to  thy  soul 

More  nicely  strung,  with  quicker,  keener  sense 

By  God  endowed,  shall  healthful  reverence  wake 

And  restful  confidence  ;  shall  teach  thy  thought 

In  generous  rivalry  to  tempt  the  heights 

Of  intellectual  grandeur  and  to  grasp 

What  best  and  highest  mortal  powers  may  reach, 

Of  knowledge  that  exalts  and  gifts  that  charm. 

Will  he  repress  thee?    Ay,  as  summer  suns 

Repress  the  morning  rosebud,  opening  wide 

Its  bosom  to  the  day  and  calling  forth 

Its  sweetest  odors  and  its  loveliest  hues  ! 

Edward  and  Mary,  each  in  each  complete  I 


HOME.  3J 

Husband  and  wife,  but  one  Humanity  — 
One  conscious  life  full-flowing  —  with  one  heart, 
One  will,  one  end  supreme,  one  blessedness  ! 
Twas  so  that  God  ordained  domestic  bliss. 

Now,  with  exultant  step,  from  room  to  room 
They  wander,  and  well  pleased  each  trait  survey 
Of  this  their  new  abode  —  their  HOME,  when  time 
And  love  and  joys  the  place  hath  sanctified, 
When  sorrow's  shade,  perchance,  has  overhung 
And  hallowed  it,  baptized  with  holy  tears, 
Till  tenderest  memories,  gathered  one  by  one, 
Thick  clustering,  link  each  object  to  the  heart. 
Like  children,  whom  new  toys  or  pleasures  fill 
With  gushing  raptures,  they  with  quick  survey 
Scan  each  apartment ;  try  each  chair  and  lounge ; 
Look  from  each  window  on  the  prospect  fair ; 
Each  picture  on  the  garnished  walls  observe 
With  keenest  glance,  as  if  with  critic's  eye 
In  Angelo,  or  Raphael,  they  sought 
Some  touch  of  grace  unnoted  e'er  before. 


32  HOME. 

But  in  each  other,  chiefly,  pleased  they  see 

The  graces  most  transcendent ;  and  the  light 

Of  love  within  suffuses  each  dear  face, 

And  glows,  as  when  through  some  fair  vase  or  globe 

Translucent  softly  shines  the  embosomed  flame. 

So  passed  with  silent  feet  the  jocund  Hours. 
Then  while  this  first  day  of  their  wedded  life 
Closed  over  them  serene,  and  twilight  fell, 
Hand  clasped  in  hand  they  sat,  till  daylight  died 
And  set  love's  favorite  star ;  too  full  their  hearts 
For  words ;  their  silent  bliss  like  some  sweet  dream. 
Thus  for  a  time.     But  when  the  deepened  shade 
Their  faces  veiled,  it  was  as  if  each  tongue 
Gained  freedom  and  each  heart,  unlocked, 
Revealed  its  hidden  treasures ;  and  they  talked 
As  ne'er  before  of  all  the  vanished  past, 
Of  present  pleasures  and  of  dawning  hopes ; 
Of  all  that  each  to  each  aspired  to  be 
In  the  great  life-work.     Then  at  last  they  kneeled 
With  hearts  in  true  accord  before  the  throne, 


HOME.  33 

Their  Father's  throne  of  pure  eternal  love, 
And  in  His  name  who  bore  the  bitter  cross 
Forgiveness  sought  and  breathed  their  praise  to  heaven. 
Angels  !  to  whom  of  God  the  task  is  given 
With  loving  ministries,  though  all  unseen,  to  watch 
And  keep,  with  care  unwearied,  every  hour, 
The  heirs  of  life  whose  souls  in  love  abide ; 
Ye  at  that  hour  were  nigh.     Ye  saw  them  bow 
And  worship ;  heard  those  fervent  lips  declare 
That  God  should  be  their  God  ;  heard  them  entreat 
That  He  whom  heaven  itself,  the  heaven  of  heavens, 
Could  not  contain,  would  with  them  deign  to  dwell, 
Gladdening   their  Home  and  hearts  with  that   same 

smile 

That  gladdens  all  above ;  would  own  them  His, 
Them  and  their  household,  and  in  trouble's  day, 
Or  when  thick  perils  should  beset  them  round, 
Such  as  must  come  to  all,  comfort  and  rest 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  his  wings  would  give. 
Ye  saw  —  for  ye  have  spiritual  vision  clear  — 
How  rose  their  warm  affections  to  the  throne, 


34  HOME. 

As  when  of  old  the  smoke  of  incense,  cast 
On  glowing  altars,  rose  in  circling  wreaths, 
And  He  who  dwelt  between  the  cherubim 
Smelled  a  sweet  savor.     Thou  thyself  didst  hear, 
Thou  without  whom  not  e'en  the  sparrow  falls ; 
The  trust  Thou  didst  accept,  and  didst  command 
Thy  blessing  ;  charge  to  all  good  angels  Thou 
Didst  give,  by  night  and  day,  with  ceaseless  guard 
All  evils  to  forefend,  save  such  as  needs 
Must  be  for  Virtue's  sake,  that  ever  best 
Thrives  while  she  wrestles,  by  thy  grace  made  strong. 
Henceforth,  thrice  happy  pair,  although  for  you 
Each  day  new  cares  may  spring  and  duty  set 
New  tasks,  with  these  shall  come  celestial  Peace, 
And,  where  God  dwells  and  dear  domestic  love, 
Shall  nestle  and  abide.     Earth's  purest  joys, 
Unsating  because  pure,  there  fresh  shall  spring 
As  o'er  you  swiftly  pass  the  fleeting  years  ; 
Till  from  this  earthly  Home  ye  pass  to  heaven. 


- 


PART     II. 


I  SAW  her  upon  nearer  view, 

A  Spirit,  yet  a  Woman  too  ! 

Her  household  motions  light  and  free, 

And  steps  of  virgin  liberty ; 

A  countenance  in  which  did  meet 

Sweet  records,  promises  as  sweet ; 

A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good 

For  human  nature's  daily  food  ; 

For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles, 

Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears,  and  smiles. 

Wordsworth. 

THERE  are  smiles  and  tears  in  the  mother's  eyes, 
For  her  new  born  babe  beside  her  lies  ; 
O  heaven  of  bliss  !  when  the  heart  o'erflows 
With  the  rapture  a  mother  only  knows  ! 

Henry  Ware,  Jr. 


PART     II. 

S~\  JOY  of  joys  !  the  joy  of  wedded  hearts, 

That  at  God's  shrine  in  youthful  freshness  joined, 
Are  one  for  ever  —  mystery  of  love  ! 
Thenceforth,  like  two  clear  fountains  side  by  side, 
That  pour  their  waters  into  one  bright  stream, 
They  blend  their  free  affections,  till  the  tide, 
In  one  deep  channel,  floweth  ever  on. 
As  in  green  meadows  by  some  river's  side, 
Spring  'neath  the  sun  daisy  and  violet, 
With  many  a  peer,  of  many  a  name  and  tinge, 
And  blossom  numberless  to  grace  the  scene ; 
So  where  that  sacred  current  affluent  glides 
Through  the  charmed  valley  of  domestic  bliss, 
Shoot  forth  all  virtues  that  humanity 
Do  most  adorn  and  beauty  lend  to  life. 
Here  sheltered,  they  may  bud  and  bloom  secure 


38  HOME. 

From  beasts  that  raven  the  wide  world  abroad  ; 
In  rich  luxuriance  grow,  and  crown  thee,  Home, 
With  graces  that  most  charm  the  pure  in  heart. 
No  cynic  eye  thy  secrecy  invades, 
To  note,  and  noting  check,  love's  language  true, 
That  half  unconsciously,  with  artless  art, 
And  simplest  act,  some  secret  meaning  tells. 
A  gentle  word  ;  a  glance  ;  perchance  a  kiss  ; 
Or  whate'er  slightest  ministry  may  prove 
Expressive  of  the  fulness  that  o'erflows 
Each  happy  heart  —  so  hours  as  minutes  fly  ! 
In  this,  his  fortress,  Love  in  freedom  reigns ; 
Commands,  obeys,  nor  to  distinguish  knows 
Duty  and  pleasure,  since  they  here  are  one. 

Now  wakes  the  morn — Nature's  great  miracle, 
Repeated  ever,  yet  for  ever  new  — 
When  start  afresh  the  busy  wheels  of  life, 
That  through  night's  silent  reign  awhile  stood  still. 
Listen  !  what  mingled  sounds  swell  on  the  ear, 
While  kindle  Nature's  slumbers  into  smiles  ! 


HOME.  39 

The  groves,  but  now  so  still,  grow  vocal,  and  pour 

forth 

From  thousand  tuneful  throats  such  melodies 
As  might  e'en  Dulness,  drowsy  maid,  herself 
Awake  to  ecstasy.     June's  unmown  fields 
Stand  tremulous,  all  wet  with  silvery  dew, 
Night's  grateful  benison.     The  clouds  that  hung 
Like  parting  curtains  when  the  day  awoke, 
Transfigured,  glow  as  dipped  in  Tyrian  dyes 
Of  hue  celestial  —  ruby,  jasper,  gold. 
The  chariot  of  the  King  of  Day  they  seem, 
In  which,  with  pomp  ascending  o'er  the  heights, 
He  climbs  the  noonward  path.     The  wreathing  mists 
That  hide,  and  yet  reveal,  the  stream  that  winds 
Along  the  quiet  valley,  slowly  lift, 
Like  beauty's  veil,  and  show  the  grace  beneath. 
The  voice  of  flocks  and  herds  that  hasten  forth 
Eager  to  taste  the  pasture  blend  confused, 
Yet  please  the  listening  ear.     The  flowery  train, 
With  which  bright  Summer  loves  at  early  dawn 
Her  retinue  to  fill,  spread  o'er  the  fields, 


40  HOME. 

Entincturing  with  their  breath  the  roving  wind 

That  wooes  them  in  their  sweetness,  while  they  seem, 

As  if  in  conscious  life,  to  glow  with  joy. 

These,  Morning,  are  thy  charms  ;  and  ever  new, 

From  bounding  childhood  down  to  tottering  age, 

To  hearts  with  inborn  tenderness  endowed, 

And  natures  finely  tuned,  they  yield  delight. 

Yet  'tis  when  hearts  most  leap  with  gladsome  life, 
And  passion's  impulses  ;  with  eager  hopes, 
Imaginations,  fancies,  visions,  dreams, 
And,  born  of  these,  emotions,  like  pent  fires 
That  will  not  be  repressed,  but  force  their  way ; 
'Tis  when  youth's  throbbing  pulses  send  their  blood 
Swift  coursing  through  the  veins,  and  every  sense 
And  sensibility  is  quick  and  keen; 
'Tis  most  of  all  when  love,  pure,  happy  love, 
So  permeates  with  its  subtile  force  the  breast, 
That  thought  and  purpose,  sympathy  and  will, 
Delighted  own  its  sway  ;  oh,  yes  !  'tis  then 
That  most  the  world  enrobes  itself  in  light, 


'    HOME.  41 

With  beauty  all  suffused ;  that  morn  and  eve, 

Sun,  moon,  and  stars,  and  ocean,  lake,  and  stream, 

Woods,  hills,  and  fields,  and  all  earth's  features  fair, 

Seem  as  incarnadined  with  roseate  hues, 

And  through  the  liquid  air  there  seems  to  float 

A  glory,  that  intoxicates  the  soul 

With  dreamy  bliss,  and  to  the  softened  heart 

Makes  Nature's  simplest,  lowliest  work  divine. 

'Twas  thus  exultant  and  elate,  that  morn, 
That  Edward  stood,  with  Mary  at  his  side, 
And  from  the  casement  gazed,  with  open  heart 
Drinking  all  sweetness  from  the  radiant  scene, 
Through  every  sense  ;  while  in  her  beaming  face 
He  saw  reflected  his  own  tranquil  joy. 
To  both,  on  this  their  wedded  life's  first  day, 
With  omens  kind  begun,  ne'er  looked  before 
The  world  so  beautiful ;  ne'er  God  himself, 
The  Infinite  Creator,  seemed  so  good. 
And  while,  with  the  ascending  sun,  went  up 
From  off  the  dewy  earth  the  morning  mists, 


42  HOME. 

Rising  like  incense,  from  their  tuneful  lips 
And  hearts  o'erflowing,  rose  their  hymn  of  praise 
With  fervent  orisons  to  listening  Heaven, 
Whither  no  voice  of  love  ascends  in  vain. 

Is  then  the  goal  attained?     Is  this  retreat  — 
The  dream  of  many  a  year  at  last  fulfilled  — 
A  bower  of  ease,  in  which,  with  lotus  charm, 
The  past  may  be  forgot;  the  future,  veiled 
In  golden  haze,  be  all  unquestioned  left, 
And  purpose  high  in  pleasure's  cup  be  drowned? 
No  !     In  the  blissful  shades  where  primal  man 
Walked  innocent  with  God,  'twas  given  to  dress 
And  keep  the  garden  —  toil  no  natural  ill. 
For  use,  O  mortal,  God  thy  powers  hath  given, 
And  made  their  use  a  joy.     In  labors  meet, 
Pursued  for  virtue's  ends,  in  good  achieved 
And  triumphs  won  by  sacrifice,  by  love 
Enlarged  and  with  all  generous  yearnings  filled, 
Thou  shalt  such  pleasures  find  as  most  exalt 
Thy  being  and  thy  restless  soul  compose. 


HOME.  43 

Not  by  ignoble  ease,  but  noble  deeds, 
Thou  dost  reveal  the  spirit  all  divine 
That  in  thee  lives  and  makes  thee  like  to  God 
And  brother  of  the  angels,  who,  as  winds 
And  flames  of  fire,  are  swift  to  work  his  will ; 
For  thee,  as  them,  to  serve  is  to  be  blest. 

Home  hath  its  tasks.     Each  day  demands  anew 
The  thoughtful  purpose  and  the  skilful  hand. 
Thou,  Mary,  now  crowned  queen  of  this  fair  realm, 
Must  wield  thy  sceptre  and  with  gentle  grace, 
Grace  that  to  thee  is  power,  shouldst  wield  it  well. 
Tis  thine  this  Home  to  fashion  as  thou  \vjlt ; 
To  give  it  thine  own  impress,  till  it  seems 
Pervaded  by  thy  spirit  —  full  of  thee  ! 
Tis  thine  to  guard  its  order,  beauty,  health ; 
To  keep  it  ever  free  from  passion's  jar 
And  discord's  grating  tones,  nor  e'er  permit 
The  clamors  of  the  rude  and  noisy  world 
Its  quiet  to  invade.     Here  thou  hast  power, 
By  thine  own  magic  arts,  o'er  all  to  shed 


44  HOME. 

The  living  air  of  joy,  that  whoso  breathes 

Shall  seem,  as  by  enchantment,  warmed  and  filled 

With  genial  gladness.     Here,  by  thee  beguiled, 

The  troubled  brow  shall  lose  its  furrows,  deep 

By  cares  inwrought ;  the  heavy  heart  grow  light 

And  gather  strength  and  courage  for  new  toils. 

Music  with  sounding  string  and  richest  strain, 

And  Poesy  with  all  her  visions  rare, 

And  kindred  arts  whose  simplest  gifts  may  please, 

Shall  blend  their  charms  to  grace  thy  queenly  state, 

Obedient  to  thy  summons.     Nor  shall  Mirth 

Withhold  her  ringing  laugh  when  thou  shalt  call ; 

But,  with  all  innocent  pleasures  in  her  train, 

Shall  come  to  visit  thee  and  lend  her  aid 

To  make  thy  court  earth's  fairest,  happiest  spot. 

,  Yet  not  to  listless  ease,  nor  pleasure's  round, 
The  life  inane  that  pampered  luxury 
Elsewhere  delights  to  lead,  thy  realm  be  given. 
This  is  thy  pride,  New  England,  that  thy  Homes 
With  healthful  industries  did  e'er  abound. 


HOME.  45 

Thy  matrons,  in  the  halcyon  days  of  yore, 

Lived  not  alone  to  order  well  their  house 

And  ply  the  needle,  but  with  vigorous  grasp 

Wielded  the  loom  ;  and  from  the  distaff  drew 

With  busy  hand  and  foot  the  flaxen  thread ; 

Carded  the  wool  and  twirled  the  humming  wheel. 

O  days  of  sweet  content !     No  need  was  then 

That  commerce  rifle  every  foreign  strand 

From  India  to  Peru,  with  raiment  meet 

Brought  from  afar,  the  household  to  attire. 

If  of  this  glory  thou  no  more  canst  boast 

As  thou  wast  wont — so  times  and  manners  change  — 

Yet  are  thy  dwellings  Industry's  abode ; 

Her  name  is  honored  there.     So  let  it  be, 

Till  Plymouth  Rock  itself  shall  waste  with  years ! 

Yes,  Mary  !     If  a  queen  thou  hast  been  crowned, 
Forget  not  that  with  crowns  there  needs  must  come 
Duty  and  care.     Life  opens  now  to  thee 
Its  long  perspective,  and  arrayed  thou  seest, 
Far  stretching  on  before,  its  years  of  toil ; 


: . X 

46  HOME. 

Pleasing,  not  terrible,  the  vision  seems. 

Thou  wouldst  not  live  a  cipher.     Thy  young  heart 

Throbs  with*  its  eagerness  a  part  to  bear, 

Some  worthy  part,  among  the  good  and  brave 

Who  live  to  conquer  ill,  and  love  the  strifes 

Whose  prize  is  gladness  and  whose  fruits  are  Peace. 

No  weak  ambition  thine  to- send  thy  name 

Resounding,  like  an  echo,  through  the  world ; 

Made  common  on  all'  lips,  sullied  perchance 

By  its  rude  contacts,  and  its  fragrance  lost ! 

Wiser,  thou  choosest  in  the  tranquil  sphere 

Of  dear  domestic  peace,  by  duty  done 

To  grave  thine  image  on  the  loving  hearts 

That  gather  round  thee,  to  thine  influence  sweet 

Opening,  as  lilies  on  the  placid  stream 

Bare  their  fair  bosoms  to  the  grateful  sun. 

Nobler  thou  deem'st  the  task,  that  manly  heart 

Now  knit  to  thine,  beyond  all  chance  to  hold 

Loyal  to  thee  and  restful  in  thy  truth ; 

To  make  thyself  his  ever  conscious  want, 

His  life's  chief  joy  ;  nor,  striving,  shalt  thou  fail 


* 


HOME.  47 

O'er  him  to  throw  thy  spells.     Thy  morning  smile 
Will  sweetly  haunt  him  through  the  livelong  hours. 
E'en  'mid  the  din  of  business,  on  his  ear 
Will  steal  thy  tones.     As  thou  each  day  for  him, 
So  he  for  thee,  shall  think  and  plan  and  toil. 
Wealth,  honor,  fame  —  whate'er  of  either  crowns 
His  patient  strivings,  most  of  all  for  thee 
His  thought  will  prize ;  and  nightly  at  thy  feet, 
With  noble  pride,  he  will  exulting  lay 
The  trophies  he  has  won.     Or  if  perchance, 
In  the  rough  contacts  of  a  restless  world, 
Where  thickly,  oft,  keen  shafts  of  malice  fly, 
He  hath  been  wounded  sore ;  if  on  him  fall 
Misfortune's  lowering  shade,  with  doubt  and  dread 
That  tire  the  soul  with  watching,  and  his  heart, 
Firm  though  it  be,  half  faints  ;  he  then  to  thee 
Shall  turn  for  strength  and  healing;  and  thy  voice, 
Thy  cheering  glance,  thy  counsels  and  thy  prayer, 
Shall  nerve  him  all  anew ;  with  ardor  fired- 
Shall  send  him  to  the  battle's  front  again, 
New  triumphs  in  heroic  strife  to  win. 


48  HOME. 

Thou  too  shalt  own  his  power.     As  he  to  thee 
Shall  turn  for  love's  deep  tenderness,  and  warm 
Each  day  anew  his  heart  at  the  pure  flame 
That,  as  on  vestal  altars,  ever  glows 
Within  thy  breast;  so  thou  when  burdens  press, 
Or  dangers  gather  thick,  in  him  shall  see 
Thy  helper  strong  ;  and  ever  by  his  side 
More  surely  thou  shalt  scale  the  rugged  steeps 
And  passes  perilous  that  wait  thy  feet. 
In  his  life  thou  shalt  live,  and  so  become 
Worthy  of  high  companionship  and  meet, 
Sharing  his  struggles,  with  him  to  be  crowned. 
Each  year  shall  thus  thy  being's  measure  fill, 
The  treasures  hidden  in  thy  soul  unlock, 
And  make  thee  rich  in  dignity  and  grace, 
And  all  that  most  exalts ;  till  thou,  the  wife, 
Shalt  stand  confessed  the  glory  of  the  man 
Thy  husband,  and  he  thine ;  by  trial  each 
Proved  to  the  other  equal,  helper,  friend. 


HOME.  49 

Oh,  lightly  dance  the  hours,  and  swift  the  day 
Speeds  round  its  circuit,  if  the  heart  be  glad ! 
When  with  the  frequent  task  and  press  of  care 
Come  many  a  kindly  impulse,  born  of  love, 
And  many  a  fantasy,  that  warm  the  soul 
With  ever  fresh  delight ;  when  sympathies 
Seem  e'en,  like  odors  that  exhale,  to  rise 
Spontaneous,  and  to  breathe  themselves  abroad 
As  if  from  sheer  exuberance  ;  and  there  flits 
Before  affection's  eye  the  image  fair 
Of  a  dear  face  that  absence  cannot  hide ;  — 
Then,  Time,  thou  turn'st  in  vain  thy  flowing  glass, 
To  mark  thy  flight ;  no  note  the  sand  receives  ! 
'Tis  so  that  in  that  Home  days  seem  but  hours, 
And  weeks  but  days,  and  months,  as  weeks,  go  by. 
The  blithesome  wife  guides  all  with  patient  skill, 
And  taste  that  seems  an  instinct ;  fain  to  make 
Parlor  and  library,  each  several  room, 
Each  mantle,  niche  and  arch,  or  deep  recess, 
Fair  with  chaste  beauty,  grateful  to  his  eye 
Whose  look  approving,  oft  as  he  returns, 

4 


50  HOME. 

* 

For  her  illuminates  and  gladdens  all. 

Soon  gorgeous  Summer  with  light  tread  has  passed ; 

And  Autumn,  laden  with  his  sheaves  and  fruits, 

.Enrobed  and  garlanded  with  dying  leaves 

That  dolphin-like  grow  beautiful  in  death, 

Has  hasted  by,  and  seems  a  vision  gone ; 

Winter  with  hoary  head  and  frosty  breath 

Hath  let  loose  all  his  storms,  and  the  free  streams 

And  yielding  earth  hath  fixed  as  adamant. 

Fled  swiftly  all ;  yet,  in  their  passing,  rich 

In  pleasures  innocent  and  duties  done  ; 

In  memories  that,  as  treasures  of  the  soul, 

Shall  live  unfading  down  to  distant  years, 

When,  in  life's  twilight  dim,  quiescent  age 

Backward  shall  turn  to  wander  o'er  the  past. 

Then  trod  again  shall  be  those  evening  strolls 

In  the  still  gloaming,  or  when  climbed  the  moon, 

While  nature's  kindliest  influence  softly  stole 

O'er  each  fond  heart ;  lived  o'er  again  shall  be 

Those  fireside  hours  when  each  by  turns  or  read, 

Or  eager  listened  to  the  thrilling  tale, 


HOME.  51 

To  some  old  poet's  lay,  or  ballad  wild, 

Or  History's  roll  of  deeds  and  men  renowned. 

But,  blessed  Home.,  these  are  not  all  thy  joys ; 
Yet  undiscovered  are  thy  purest  springs, 
The  streams  untasted  yet  of  holiest  bliss 
From  wedded  love  by  God  ordained  to  flow. 
Though  now,  ye  favored  pair,  your  cup  seem  full, 
A  gladder  hour  is  nigh ;  a  brighter  star 
Than  e'er  before  your  watchful  eyes  did  greet 
Now  rises,  o'er  your  path  to  shed  its  ray. 
Hark  !  a  new  sound  arrests  the  quickened  ear ! 
A  voice  !  a  cry  !  —  the  cry  of  infancy  ! 
Through  every  room  it  thrills  ;  the  very  walls 
That  echo  it,  with  sympathy  seem  touched. 
A  babe  is  born  !     Mother —  O  hallowed  name  ! 
Mary,  that  name  is  thine  !  close  to  thy  heart, 
Quick  beating  with  a  rapture  all  unknown 
Till  this  blest  moment,  thou  dost  fold  and  press 
Thy  first  born  son  !     Thine  anguish  all  forgot, 
A  joy  so  deep,  so  pure,  so  brimming  o'er, 


52  HOME. 

Possesses  thy  whole  being,  that  to  thee 

It  seems  a  new  existence ;  ay,  so  strange 

Thou  almost  deem'st  it  but  a  blissful  dream 

From  which  thou  may'st  awake.     No  —  no  ! 

Thou  art  a  mother  to  eternal  years  ! 

Life  of  thy  life,. that  helpless  one  is  born 

Immortal  as  the  angels ;  by  thy  side 

It  shall  still  live  when,  as  old  seers  have  sung, 

The  ancient  heavens  have  been  together  rolled, 

And  earth  hath  perished  by  devouring  fire. 

JTis  thine,  for  immortality,  to  guard  and  keep 

The  priceless  treasure.     Unto  thee  'tis  given  — • 

No  work  of  earth  more  sacred,  more  sublime  — 

That  trembling  spirit  to  insphere  in  love, 

To  fashion  it  by  love's  sweet  ministries, 

Till  faculties  yet  hidden,  full  revealed, 

Declare  it  fellow  of  the  hosts  of  heaven  ! 

No  marvel  if  thy  heart,  at  thoughts  like  these, 

Doth  falter,  burdened  with  the  mighty  trust. 


HOME.  53 

But  not  alone  thou  bear'st  it.     There  is  yet 
Another  holy  name.     Thou,  Edward,  art 
A  Father  !  —  name  like  God's  !  a  changeless  name. 
Thy  manly  soul,  warmed  with  paternal  love, 
Calm,  deep,  and  steady  as  a  river's  tide, 
By  this  new  life  shall  feel  its  own  enlarged, 
More  joyous  made  and  richer.     Thou  shalt  find 
In  this,  thy  son,  what  seems  another  self; 
Another  centre,  round  which  may  revolve 
Thy  best  affections  and  thy  busy  thought. 
E'en  while  his  infant  prattle  wakes  the  smile 
Of  fatherly  delight,  within  thy  breast 
Grave  questionings  shall  rise,  with  hopes  and  fears. 
"  How  with  thee  shall  it  fare,  unconscious  child  — 
How  wilt  thou  bear  thyself,  upon  life's  field 
Where  foe  meets  foe  and  wile  encounters  wile ; 
Where  hapless  thousands  fall,  or,  wounded  sore, 
Survive  but  wrecks,  unfit  for  noble  tasks? 
What  destinies  are  thine?     Wait  there  for  thee 
The  shouts  of  triumph?  or  the  pang  and  shame 
Of  final,  sad  defeat?"     So  wilt  thou  ask; 


54  HOME. 

And  then,  with  impulse  new,  thy  soul  will  rise 
To  the  firm  purpose  that  in  thee  thy  child 
Shall  find  a  model  true,  a  wisdom  pure ; 
Shall  see  a  life  well  lived,  and  with  thee  walk 
As  one  that  breathes  in  virtue's  bracing  air ; 
As  one  divinely  led,  a  child  of  heaven ! 

Father  and  Mother  !  holiest  names  of  earth  ! 
Lo  !  now,  blest  Home,  thy  circle  made  complete  ! 
Thy  pleasures  full !     Now,  in  each  throbbing  breast, 
All  sweetest  chords,  unstruck  before,  are  touched ; 
Vibrations  exquisite,  that  slept,  awake, 
And  the  whole  compass  of  the  soul  pours  forth 
Harmonious  paeans  ;  as  some  organ  full  — • 
Drawn  every  stop  —  its  perfect  volume  swells, 
And  with  its  faultless  chorus  charms  the  ear. 
Yet  o'er  the  world,  to  each  fond  parent's  eye, 
A  nameless  change  has  passed.     A  graver  hue 
Now  tinges  earth  and  sky,  that  laughed  before 
In  flashing  light  and  beauty  ever  gay. 
Not  less  the  light  and  beauty,  nor  the  bliss 


HOME.  55 

Of  those  beholding ;  but  all  things  seem  charged 
With  meanings  deeper  far,  that  needs  must  lend 
An  aspect  chastened  and  a  tone  subdued 
To  nature's  face,  softer  yet  richer  too. 
Emotions  now  first  waked,  and  loftier  aims 
Than  e'er  before  had  stirred  the  conscious  soul 
Write  on  each  brow  new  dignity  of  thought. 

As  when  is  read  some  drama,  rarely  wrought 
By  genius'  magic  pen,  the  first  act  past, 
That  with  strange  power  the  attentive  mind  hath  seized, 
All  note  of  time  is  lost,  or  heeded  not, 
While  act  on  act  succeeds  till  comes  the  last, 
That  disenchants  the  reader  spell-bound  long ; 
So  when  thy  scenes,  dear  Home,  divinely  planned, 
Have  opened  as  if  bathed  in  silver  light, 
Have  cheerily  swept  on  beyond  the  days 
Of  love's  first  raptures  and  the  blissful  hour 
When  felt  the  first-born's  brow  a  mother's  kiss, 
The  plot  fast  thickens,  and  intenser  grow 
The  sympathies  that  fill  and  hold  the  heart, 


56  HOME. 

Ever  yet  more  content,  while  through  quick  years 

The  changeful  action  hasteth  swiftly  on. 

One  charming  prattler  scarce  hath  learned  to  lisp 

The  names  most  musical  to  infant  tongues, 

Ere  yet  another  cherub  face  appears 

In  the  pleased  household,  and  in  time's  full  round 

Yet  others  still.     Come  added  cares  with  each, 

And  duties  new  ;  but  with  such  gushing  love, 

Such  influx  of  deep  joy,  that  all  forgot 

Or  drowned  in  ecstasies,  or  tranquil  bliss, 

The  weightier  burdens  seem.     Life  richer  grows, 

As,  with  the  years,  fair  sons  and  daughters  rise 

In  beauty  fresh,  like  olive  plants,  to  stand. 

Father  and  mother  !     How  their  hearts  expand, 
As  large,  and  larger  yet,  becomes  the  sphere 
Where  sweet  affections  reign ;  where  brother  blends 
His  rougher  vigor  with  a  sister's  grace ; 
Somewhat  each  borrows  and  each  somewhat  lends, 
And  all,  as  one,  true  filial  honor  pay. 
Home,  thou  art  richer  so  than  piled  with  gold 


HOME.  57 

And  rarest  gems,  yet  wanting  loving  hearts ; 
Fairer  than  with  all  garniture  bedecked 
Of  princely  halls,  with  splendors  cold,  and  pride. 
If  matched  with  thine,  all  other  jewels  pale ; 
E'en  God  himself  with  pleasure  thine  beholds. 
Brothers  and  sisters  !  what  blest  concord  binds 
Congenial  souls  that  breathe  in  virtue's  air  ! 
How  are  they  knit  by  inborn  instincts  kind, 
By  common  blood  and  birth,  by  childhood's  sports 
Together  shared  in  many  a  shining  hour, 
By  transient  griefs,  and  alternations  quick 
Of  hope  and  fear,  that  each  has  felt  with  all, 
All  felt  with  each.     Concord  more  perfect  made 
By  such  slight  discords  as  in  all  have  wrought 
More  watchful  tenderness  of  patient  love. 
More  of  thy  strength,  divine  self-sacrifice ! 

Dwells  then,  Q  Earth,  e'en  in  thy  fairest  spot, 
A  perfect  bliss?     Giv'st  thou  enduring  joys, 
Where  nothing  fixed  abides?     The  circling  years, 
That  swiftly  chase  each  other  in  their  flight, 


n\~" 

58  HOME. 

Bring  ceaseless  change.    Lo  !  Morning  with  her  dews, 

And  songs  and  bloom  ;  still  Evening  with  her  shades  ; 

Sabbaths  with  holy  calm,  that  yield  too  soon 

To  seasons  given  to  rounds  of  wearying  toil ; 

Months  marked  by  waxing  and  by  waning  moons  ; 

Spring  with  its  waking  life,  Summer  arrayed 

In  robes  that  fade  so  soon ;  Autumn  that  strips 

The  teeming  fields,  and  leaves  them  brown  and  sere ; 

Winter  that  with  his  storms  deep  buries  all 

Kind  Nature's  smiles  beneath  his  chilling  snows  ! 

Each  comes  but  to  depart,  nor  long  abides. 

See  how  like  withering  grass  all  beauty  fades, 

And  strength  to  weakness  turns ;  how  the  firm  rock 

Slowly,  but  surely,  crumbleth  back  to  dust ; 

How  life's  uncounted  forms  dissolve,  O  Death, 

At  thy  cold  touch  that  blighteth  all  alike  ! 

Hath  earth  one  spot  so  sheltered,  so  secure, 

That  there  no  change,  no  pang,  no  sense  of  loss, 

No  fear  of  ill,  no  sorrow,  e'er  can  come? 

No :  even  within  thy  precincts,  sacred  Home, 

Must  it  at  last  be  known  that  'neath  the  sun 

No  mortal  heart  can  beat  and  feel  no  wound. 


HOME.  59 

Edward,  what  aileth  thee,  that  anguish  sits 
Where  smiles,  like  glancing  lights,  were  wont  to  play? 
Mary,  thy  cheek  is  blanched;  thy  restless  eye 
Turns  frequent  here  and  there,  as  if  it  sought 
To  rest  on  one  with  whom  might  come  relief! 
Ah,  yes  !  a  tender  lamb  of  that  fair  flock 
O'er  which  to  watch  hath  been  by  day,  by  night, 
Thy  life's  chief  joy,  now  by  the  wayside  droops ; 
Droops  on  from  hour  to  hour ;  no  skill  avails 
To  cool  the  fevered  brow,  or  light  again 
The  languid  eyes  that  kindle  now  no  more. 
In  vain,  O  mother,  have  thy  faithful  arms 
Enfolded  him  and  pressed  him  to  thy  heart. 
No  care,  nor  yearning  of  maternal  love, 
Nor  father's  wrestling  hope,  can  stay  the  step 
Of  Sorrow  —  awful  form  !  —  too  clearly  seen 
Advancing ;  in  her  hands  the  cup  of  woe, 
Of  which  'tis  given  all  mortal  lips  to  taste. 

'Tis  o'er.     Hark  !     Hark  !  soft  on  the  startled  ear 
Music  unearthly  steals  !  celestial  notes 


60  HOME. 

And  melodies,  as  from  the  airy  lips 

Of  spirits  all  unseen,  with  mingled  lyres 

Touched  as  by  angel  fingers,  seem  to  fill 

The  tranquil  air.     Ye  cannot  catch  the  strain, 

But  well  ye  deem  that  lovingly  it  greets 

The  gentle  spirit  of  its  clay  disrobed. 

Bear  —  bear  the  cherub,  angels,  to  His  arms 

Who  in  his  mortal  years  such  lambs  did  fold 

Close  on  his  heart  with  heavenly  grace  and  smiles, 

And  blessed  and  called  them  his,  and  said,  — "  Of  such 

Heaven's  holy  kingdom  shall  for  ever  be." 

He  hath  its  name  already  on  his  hands 

Engraven,  and  hath  watched  it  as  his  own; 

And  with  a  tenderness  surpassing  thine, 

O  mother,  He  thine  innocent  will  meet, 

Will  soothe  its  fears  and  win  its  love  with  smiles 

Of  sweetness  so  divine  that  it  shall  need 

No  more  e'en  thy  dear  ministries,  to  fill 

The  measure  of  its  bliss  to  full  content. 

What  thou  hadst  thought  to  teach  it,  He  will  teach, 

Of  wisdom,  goodness,  beauty,  truth,  and  love; 


HOME.  6l 

His  care  will  guard  and  train  it  till  the  hour 

When  thou  shalt  come,  the  blessed  day  arrived, 

With  thine  own  eyes,  long  waiting,  to  behold 

The  vision  of  the  Lamb.     Back  to  thine  arms 

Then  He  the  faithful  Shepherd  shall  restore 

Thy  child  —  still  thine  —  the  same  o'er  which  did  fall 

Thy  bitter  tears  when  lost  to  thee  he  seemed. 

The  same,  yet  not  the  same  !  more  beautiful 

Beyond  compare,  e'en  as  the  hyacinth 

That  perfect  stands,  unfolded  every  grace, 

Is  lovelier  than  the  bulb  that  held  it  once, 

And  hid  its  purple  hues.     Ah  !  then  thy  joy 

The  memory  of  thy  grief  at  last  shall  drown ; 

And  with  all  ecstasies  of  thankful  love 

And  praise  admiring,  shall  thy  soul  o'erflow. 

He  lies  upon  the  bier,  pale,  silent,  cold, 
Yet  beauteous  still.     Disease  hath  stolen  away 
But  little  from  the  face  that  late  did  seem 
Almost  a  seraph's.     On  the  marble  brow 
Chiselled  so  daintily,  so  calm,  so  pure, 


62  HOME. 

Lies,  as  in  carelessness,  the  flaxen  hair. 

In  tranquil  slumber  one  might  deem  he  rests, 

But  that  the  leaden  eye  a  sleep  bespeaks 

Too  deep  for  waking.     Folded  on  the  breast, 

Now  motionless,  repose  the  snowy  hands 

With  flowers  o'er-strown ;   strange  contrast !    e'en    as 

when 

Thick  clustering  violets  are  seen  to  spring, 
Or  lilies  of  the  valley,  where  the  drifts 
Of  winter  part,  touched  by  the  vernal  sun. 
Mary,  they  saw  thee  come  —  and  stand  —  and  gaze  — 
As  if  thy  soul,  with  anguish  wrestling  long, 
At  last  had  mastered  its  fierce  inward  strife ; 
As  if  a  self-command  that  awful  seemed 
Had  changed  thee  to  a  statue ;  saw  thee  take 
Thy  last,  last  look,  and  heard  thy  lips  pronounce, 
"  My  boy  —  thou'rt  mine  no  more  !     I  give  thee  back 
To  God  who  gave  thee  !     O  farewell !  —  farewell ! " 
So  triumphed  faith  when  anguish  wrung  the  heart ; 
And  as  the  rainbow  spans  the  cloud  o'erpast, 
Emblem  of  peace  that  waits  beyond  the  storm, 


ft- 


HOME.  63 

Thou  saw'st  with  tranquil  eye  dark  sorrow's  gloom, 
Irradiate  with  the  glow  of  heaven's  own  light, 
The  pledge  of  days  serene  beyond  these  tears, 
The  harbinger  of  healing,  rest,  and  peace. 


PART     III. 


-  -^ 


WOULDST  thou  from  sorrow  find  a  sweet  relief  ? 

Or  is  thy  heart  oppressed  with  woes  untold  ? 

Balm  wouldst  thou  gather  for  corroding  grief? 

Pour  blessings  round  thee  like  a  shower  of  gold  ! 

'Tis  when  the  rose  is  wrapped  in  many  a  fold 

Close  to  its  heart,  the  worm  is  wasting  there 

Its  life  and  beauty ;  not  when  all  unrolled, 

Leaf  after  leaf,  its  bosom  rich  and  fair 

Breathes  freely  its  perfumes  throughout  the  ambient  air. 

Carlos  Wilcox. 

THERE  blend  the  ties  that  strengthen 

Our  hearts  in  hours  of  grief, 
The  silver  links  that  lengthen 

Joy's  visits  when  most  brief! 
Then  dost  thou  sigh  for  pleasure  ? 

Oh,  do  not  widely  roam ! 

*  But  seek  that  hidden  treasure 

At  Home,  dear  Home  ! 

Bernard  Barton, 


PART    III. 

/^V  SACRED  spot  of  earth,  where  gentle  hands 
Have  laid  the  fragile  form,  so  late  suffused 
With  life's  first  glow,  beneath  the  friendly  mould ; 
To  slumber  undisturbed  where  daisies  spring 
Unbidden,  and  the  turf,  with  every  dawn, 
Seems  wet  afresh  with  tears  !     There  by  fond  hands 
Ivy  and  myrtle  have  been  taught  to  twine ; 
The  snow-drop  spotless  and  forget-me-not 
To  bloom  in  simple  beauty,  emblems  meet 
Of  purity  and  of  immortal  love. 
The  friendly  trees  their  drooping  boughs  o'erhang 
As  if  in  sympathy.     The  summer  birds 
Chant  tender  carols  through  the  shining  hours ; 
And  mingled  lights  and  shades  so  softly  blend, 
That  neither  garish  day  nor  gloom  doth  reign, 
But  grateful  twilight  lingers  ever  there. 


68  HOME. 

Dear,  oft-frequented  scene  !     'Tis  not  that  here 

The  sorrowing  heart  deems  its  lost  treasure  hid. 

The  living  spirit  that  once  blithely  wore 

The  mortal  robe  that  wasteth  here  to  dust, 

Dwells  far,  far  hence,  it  knows,  'neath  kinder  skies. 

But  memories  all  undying  centre  where 

This  dust  reposes,  quick  to  stir  anew ; 

Oft  as  with  lingering  steps  this  scene  is  trod, 

The  past  is  lived  again ;  its  bliss  renewed ; 

And  grief  becomes  but  tenderness  and  hope, 

Till  o'er  the  heart  there  steals  a  holy  calm, 

And  balm  from  heaven  hath  healed  its  bleeding  wounds. 

Toil  is  no  curse  to  mortals ;  nor  the  cares 
That  make  the  price  for  life's  best  comforts  paid. 
Both  have  a  charm  —  when  on  the  saddened  heart 
Despondency  and  griefs,  like  clouds,  have  hung 
Till  into  starless  night  day  seems  transformed  — 
The  tide  of  ever  busy  thought  to  turn  ; 
That  winding  ever  farther,  farther  on, 
Behind  it  leaves  the  dreariness  .and  wastes; 


^FT" 

HOME.  69 

And  as,  by  slow  degrees,  new  visions  rise, 
New  scenes  and  aspects  woo  and  win  the  soul ; 
Rekindle  drooping  hope  and  wake  new  joy  ; 
Till  —  how  one  knows  not  —  all  along  life's  way 
Sweet  landscapes  smile  again  and  days  are  glad ; 
Welcome  is  duty's  call,  and  future  years 
Invite  to  high  endeavor,  as  they  spread 
Bright  vistas  opening  far ;  and  every  pulse 
With  healthful  beating  tells  the  heart  is  strong. 
Thou  that  hast  suffered,  brood  not  o'er  thy  woes, 
But  to  thy  tasks  !     Thy  losses  and  thy  pangs 
Forget  in  cheerful  toil ;  thyself  forget. 
There  be  who  love  thee  yet ;  whom  thou  dost  love ; 
For  God  and  these  still  be  it  thine  to  live ; 
And,  all  unwearied,  in  love's  ministries, 
Go  labor  on  and  in  thy  works  rejoice. 

Edward  and  Mary  !  for  you  gather  yet 
Around  the  household  board  a  ruddy  band, 
Like  cluster  roses  that  upon  one  stalk 
Hang  in  their  sweet  luxuriance ;  some  in  bud, 


M^ 

ff~ 


70  HOME. 

Some  just  revealing  a  first  crimson  line  ; 

Some  half  unfolded,  some  in  their  full  bloom ; 

One  charming  whole,  of  diverse  charms  combined. 

'Tis  yours  o'er  infancy  kind  watch  to  keep ; 

To  listen  to  the  words  half-formed  that  fall 

From  ruby  lips  just  stammering  to  pronounce ; 

And  childhood's  shout  and  laugh,  perchance  its  cries, 

Since  showers  and  sunshine  fill  its  changeful  day. 

'Tis  yours  to  note  youth's  impulses,  that  swell 

With  passion's  rising  flood  the  heaving  breast 

That  resteth  not,  but  yearns  with  vague  desire ; 

That  needs  kind  sympathy  and  wisest  skill, 

To  cool  the  fever  of  fresh  life  that  throbs 

With  pulses  too  intense,  and  shape  aright 

The  forming  purpose  and  aspiring  aim. 

To  these  high, tasks  returned,  your  faces  wear 

A  smile  of  peace  again,  and  hope's  bright  glow. 

The  missing,  not  forgot,  hath  been  transformed 

Into  a  precious  jewel  of  the  soul, 

That,  in  th'e  dear  fidelity  of  love, 

With  many  a  pensive,  many  a  pleasing  thought. 


•f> 


HOME.  71 

Is  kept  with  memory's  holiest  trusts  enshrined. 
Sometimes,  perchance,  when  on  the  vacant  chair, 
Some  childish  plaything  needed  now  no  more, 
Or  garment  laid  aside,  the  eye  may  rest, 
A  sudden  tear,  a  shaded  brow,  may  tell 
How  in  the  constant  heart  still  lives  the  lost. 
Yet  steadily  again  life's  current  glides 
Along  the  wonted  channels,  where  the  banks 
Wave,  as  of  old,  with  woods  and  summer  flowers, 
And  bees  hum  softly  and  the  west  wind  plays, 
And  earth  and  skies  once  more  are  robed  in  light. 

Childhood  !  thy  bliss  who  hath  not  sung  that  e'er 
The  harp  to  tender  melodies  hath  touched? 
What  is  thy  secret?    What  thy  hiddett  joys, 
So  pure,  so  full,  that  left  far,  far  behind, 
In  memory  still  they  live ;  yea,  dearer  seem, 
As  hoary  age  through  gliding  years  steals  on  ? 
E'en  thy  glad  morning  is  not  without  clouds 
That  cast  their  gloomy  shades.     Not  all  unwet 
With  tears  thy  glowing  cheeks ;  thy  heart  not  free 


72  HOME. 

From  transient  disappointments  that  corrode ; 
From  chafing  impulse  and  oft-crossed  desire. 
Yet  art  thou  happy  as  the  bounding  fawn 
That  all  day  long,  beside  the  lonely  lake 
And  'neath  the  arches  of  the  forest  deep, 
Gambols  at  will,  nor  knows  or  want  or  fear. 
Thy  griefs  abide  not ;  soon  the  shadows  flee 
That  cross  thy  path,  and  sunbeams  gild  again 
Whate'er  thine  eye  beholds,  till  all  the  world 
For  thee  in  gladness  laughs,  and  sings  for  joy  ! 
As  yet  thou  canst  not  know  the  fretting  cares. 
The  toils  and  weariness  and  bodeful  fears, 
The  buffetings  with  dark  misfortune's  tide 
O'erwhelming  when  too  late  for  all  retrieve. 
These  wait  on  ripened  years.     'Tis  meet  that  thou, 
Dear  child,  to  whom  thy  ignorance  is  bliss, 
Shouldst  drink  the  cup  of  innocent  delight 
Placed  at  thy  lips,  nor  on  the  future  draw 
For  aught  to  check  thy  heart's  exulting  play. 


HOME.  73 

As  in  yon  garden  tastefully  inhedged 
And  consecrate  to  beauty,  rarest  flowers 
Of  many  a  name  thick  clustering  fill  the  place 
That  seems  a  realm,  a  kingdom,  all  their  own, 
Blending  in  rich  variety  their  charms ; 
E'en  so,  O  genial  Home  —  secluded,  made 
By  Heaven's  kind  law  the  nursery  of  joys 
Only  within  thy  loved  enclosure  known  — 
In  thee  all  healthful  pleasures,  ever  fresh, 
Should  spring  abundant,  and  luxuriant  grow 
Filling  all  days  and  hours,  and  months  and  years, 
With  influences  that  wake  and  warm  and  cheer ; 
That  send  exhilaration  through  the  soul, 
And  with  refreshment  bring  a  calm  content. 
Father  and  mother  I  yours  the  task  to  plan 
With  tireless  constancy  and  thoughtful  skill, 
That  boy,  nor  girl,  for  lack  of  joy  at  home, 
Shall  from  the  hearthstone  turn  and  wander  far 
To  quench  at  poisoned  streams  the  thirst  they  feel. 
Brothers  and  sisters  —  let  each  have  their  sports 
By  instinct  chosen  oft,  if  choice  be  given ; 


74  HOME. 

Sports  such  as  best  befit  each  sex  and  age 

By  nature's  steady  laws  and  inborn  taste ; 

With  others  that  together  shared  shall  best 

Give  fresh  young  hearts  delight,  and  make  them  bound 

All  joyously  with  sympathetic  bliss. 

Nor,  O  ye  parents,  let  your  hearts  grow  old ; 
As  oft  your  breasts  have  throbbed  with  childish  glee 
And  youthful  ardors,  yet  remembered  well ; 
Have  felt  the  restlessness  of  keen  desire 
That  seemed  a  quenchless  thirst ;  still  let  them  hold 
Kind  fellowship  with  new-born  life  and  joy. 
Be  ye  with  childhood,  children — youth,  with  youth; 
Nor  deem  that  aught  of  dignity,  or  grace, 
Is  lost  by  nursery  raptures,  heard  afar 
In  echoing  laughs  and  shouts  from  lisping  tongues ; 
Scorn  not  to  tell  or  hear  the  thrice-told  tales 
Of  Fairies,  Giants,  and  all  monsters  dire, 
And  chant  quaint  melodies,  tradition's  trust, 
Safe  handed  down  through  generations  dead  ! 
Fail  not  when  merry  girlhood  courts  thy  smile 


HOME.  75 

With  lips  carnationed  and  her  locks  of  gold, 
To  greet  the  baby  house  and  black-eyed  dolls, 
Dressed  and  undressed  and  nursed   through  blissful 

hours. 

Frown  not  when  roisterous  boys  or  toss  or  strike 
The  bounding  ball,  or  leap,  or  run,  or  ride 
The  mastered  steed  that,  as  the  rider,  loves 
The  rushing  course ;  or  when  with  ringing  steel 
The  polished  ice  they  sweep  in  winter's  reign. 
All  pleasing  pastimes,  innocent  delights, 
That  gladden  hearts  yet  simple  and  sincere, 
Let  love  parental  gather  round  the  Home, 
And  consecrate  by  sharing  ;  let  it  watch 
With  kind,  approving  smiles  each  merry  game 
That  quickens  youthful  blood,  and,  in  the  joy 
That  beams  from  crimson  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes, 
Its  own  renew,  and  live  its  childhood  o'er. 
So  shall  the  scenes  where  life's  fleet-footed  years 

Glide  by  with  noiseless  speed  at  last  become 

• 

Memory's  rich  treasure-field,  be  all  o'erspread 

As  with  a  radiant  flood  of  golden  sheen  ; 


76  HOME. 

Such  as,  on  cloudless  days  in  eastern  climes, 
With  the  still,  hazy  air  seems  interfused, 
Enrobing  with  a  dreamy  loveliness 
All  visible  things,  transfigured  in  its  glow. 
'Tis  so  that  tottering  age,  with  fading  eye, 
Still  sees  thee,  childhood,  glorious  as  of  old, 
And  of  all  earth's  delights  thine  last  forgets. 

But  childhood's  glory  fades  ;  its  visions  change  ; 
For  sweet  simplicity  and  guileless  trust, 
Come  youth's  unrest,  and  thoughts  that  wider  sweep, 
With  keener  search  and  wishes  reaching  far ; 
And  yearnings  vague  that  crave  they  know  not  what ; 
Imaginations  of  all  shapes  and  hues 
That  make  earth  seem  a  dreamland,  and  bright  hopes 
That  in  all  gorgeous  tints  life's  future  limn. 
Deep  in  the  breast  the  sense  of  powers  divine 
Yet  slumbering,  stirs  the  eager  soul  with  thirst 
For  wisdom's  living  streams,  impels  to  curb 
The  impulses  by  pleasure's  luring  call 
Awakened  oft,  and  give  to  high  pursuit 


HOME.  77 

And  silent  solitude  where  knowledge  dwells, 

Long  years  whose  disciplines  may  manhood  yield. 

Yes,  Learning,  'tis  of  Home  that  thou  art  born  ! 

Its  needs  demand  thee  and  its  tastes  create. 

Thy  schools,  thy  classic  halls  and  tranquil  shades, 

Haunted  with  memories  of  the  nobly  great, 

Whose  storied  deeds  and  names  that  cannot  die, 

The  pride  of  ages  dead,  enchantment  lend 

That  seems  like  perfume  breathed  on  all  the  air ; 

Where  linger  still  the  echoes  ever  sweet 

Of  lays  renowned  that  Time's  great  bards  have  sung ; 

Where  yet  resound  the  words  of  fire  pronounced 

By  orators  who  spake  when  balanced  hung 

On  the  swift  moment  destinies  sublime  ; 

Where,  in  fit  gallery  and  alcove  ranged, 

Stand  art's  grand  triumphs,  wisdom's  treasured  lore, 

All  wonders  most  divine  by  genius  wrought, 

Of  centuries  the  lesson  and  the  light ;  — 

These  —  these  of  household  culture  are  the  fruit; 

Culture  that  early,  as  with  heaven's  own  fire, 

Inflames  the  generous  heart;  refines,  exalts, 


78  HOME. 

And  with  ambition's  purest  glow  inspires 

The  youthful  soul,  not  yet  by  sense  enchained.* 

O  spectacle  divine,  where,  heart  to  heart, 
Father  and  mother,  sons  and  daughters,  blend 
Their  inborn  sympathies  in  concert  blest ! 
One  body  well  compact  by  love's  great  law ; 
Each  member  fit,  in  its  own  native  grace, 
To  fill  the  measure  of  the  perfect  whole. 
Envies  arid  jealousies,  ye  grow  not  here 
Indigenous,  as  hated  nettles  spring 
'Mid  rows  of  marjory  and  beds  of  thyme ; 
Or  if  ye  start  —  since  e'en  earth's  fairest  spot 
Yields  still  some  noxious  weeds  —  are  quick  subdued, 
As  all  unmeet  to  root  and  flourish  thus. 
Oft  by  attrition  in  its  torrent  bed 
The  precious  gem  may  wear  its  roughness  down, 
Till  from  its  polished  surface  back  the  beam 
That  brightly  falls  is  thrown  as  bright  again  ; 
So  generous  souls  in  daily  contact  lose 

*  Appendix,  Note  C. 


HOME.  79 

The  excrescences  of  nature  and  the  faults 
That,  left  unheeded,  must  ere  long  become 
Deformities,  of  God  and  man  abhorred. 

As  year  on  -year  fulfils  its  circling  round, 
Thou,  Edward,  notest  with  a  father's  pride 
Thy  Edith's  maiden  charms  that  ripen  fast 
Toward  fairest  womanhood.     Oft  o'er  thy  heart 
Steals  there  a  tranquil  joy,  a  deep  delight, 
As  'neath  thy  watchful  eye  that  wearieth  not, 
New  dignity  and  grace  her  form  invest ; 
New  beauty  tints  her  cheek,  new  thoughtfulness 
Sits  on  her  brow  and  lends  her  beaming  eye 
A  deeper  meaning  and  a  milder  fire. 
Thou,  Mary,  on  thy  Alfred  lov'st  to  fix 
With  tenderness  profound  thy  earnest  gaze. 
God-given  was  he  in  place  of  thy  first-born, 
That  Christ  desired  and  angels  bore  away  ! 
So  doubly  dear ;  and  now  that  in  his  face 
Thou  readest  thoughtfulness,  and  seest  revealed 
Reason's  calm  light,  and  wakened  intellect, 


80  HOME. 

Imagination,  hope,  and  purpose  high ; 

Now  that  with  quickened  heart-throbs  thou  dost  mark 

His  manly  form  and  mien  ;  whene'er  thou  wilt, 

Dost  find  in  him  companionship,  his  arm 

Thy  strong  support ;  his  words  a  daily  jo}^ ; 

Thy  mother's  heart  exults,  nor  would  exchange 

Its  deep,  deep  bliss  for  Ophir's  glittering  heaps, 

Or  widest  fame  'mid  noisy  contests  won. 

Thy  woman's  nature  rests  with  full  content 

In  these  thy  household  treasures  —  asks  no  more. 

How  beautiful  art  thou,  O  Youth  !     Not  lost 
As  yet  in  thee  the  sweetness  and  the  grace 
Of  childhood  left  behind ;  but,  richer  far, 
Thou  wearest  graces  that  are  all  thine  own. 
More  full  the  sympathies  that  warm  thy  breast ; 
Thy  thought  more  searching  ;  keener  far  thy  ken  — 
The  vision  of  the  soul  athirst  to  know 
Where  hides  true  wisdom  ;  larger  thy  desires 
Far  wandering,  like  the  wanton  summer  winds 
That  rove  o'er  regions  wide  and  dalliance  hold 


HOME.  8 1 

With  all  sweet  odors,  ever  restless  still ; 
Loftier  thy  purpose,  more  sublime  thy  thought 
Than  childhood  ever  knew,  or  e'er  could  know. 
A  youthful  band  —  their  souls  all  closely  knit 
In  the  pure  love  that  of  one  blood  and  birth 
By  nature's  law  doth  ever  richly  spring, 
As  from  full  fountains,  in  the  cloistered  Home, 
A  scene  present  on  which  e'en  Heaven  must  smile. 

Nor  moves  the  round  of  household  pleasures  on 
In  dull  monotony  that  needs  must  cloy. 
Home  hath  its  festal  days  —  its  holy  times  — 
When  fresh  delights  exhilarate  ;  when  Mirth 
Seizes  the  sceptre  and  asserts  her  reign, 
And  Laughter,  her  prime  minister,  she  bids 
Wake  rapturous  echoes  all  her  realm  around  ! 
When  on  affection's  altar,  with  one  will, 
The  gathered  household  their  fresh  offerings  lay ; 
Intent  that  there,  like  holy  altar  fire, 
Love's  quenchless  flame  may  ever  brightly  burn. 

6 


82  HOME. 

Dear  old  Thanksgiving  !  How  the  hallowed  word 
Restores,  as  in  a  moment,  vanished  years  ! 
How  back  to  life  the  honored  dead  it  calls, 
Whose  hoary  heads  and  venerable  forms 
The  bounteous  board  of  old  were  wont  to  grace  ! 
They  seem  to  come  and  sit  and  smile  again, 
And  with  their  children's  children  share  the  joy. 
How  brothers,  sisters,  all  companions  dear 
Of  life's  unclouded  morn,  together  flow 
From  regions  wide  remote,  and  young  again, 
At  least  in  heart,  renew  the  scenes  of  yore  ! 
This  from  the  crowded  city ;  that  from  where 
The  Prairie's  naked  bosom  tempts  the  plough ; 
Perchance  another,  from  beyond  the  flood 
Where  Mississippi  pours  his  torrent  down, 
Or  from  fair  Florida,  beneath  whose  skies 
Magnolias  spotless  open  all  their  charms, 
And  orange  blossoms  scent  the  tranquil  air. 
But  come  they  whenceso'er,  they  come  to  prove 
Unlost,  un weakened,  the  old  love  .of  Home. 
Joy  !  Joy  !  Thanksgiving,  that  o'er  all  the  land,  • 
To-day  a  Nation's  benison  thou  art.» 


HOME.  83 

And  thou  too,  ancient  festival,  whose  name 
A  word  of  joy  through  centuries  hath  lived  — 
Christmas  !  thou  com'st  with  carols  as  of  old 
When  angels  chanted  'neath  the  midnight  sky, 
"Glory  to  God  on  high,  good  will  to  men  ! " 
Methinks  angelic  choirs  beyond  the  stars 
Still  warble  round  Messiah's  throne  the  strain. 
Earth  well  may  lift  her  voice  in  jubilant  praise 
And  all  true  hearts  exulting  greet  the  day 
That  tells  the  world  anew  the  Christ  is  born  ! 
Let  holly,  box,  and  fir  tree  lend  their  boughs, 
Symbols  of  life  immortal,  to  adorn 
Each  Christian  temple.     Ring,  ring  out,  ye  bells, 
Sweet  chimes  that  shall  afar  glad  echoes  start ! 
Then  while  the  very  air  with  love  and  peace 
Seems  all  surcharged,  within  thee,  happy  Home, 
Childhood  and  youth  and  hoary  age  may  tell, 
With  many  a  gift  and  many  a  token  kind, 
With  chastened  merriment  and  generous  cheer, 
How  beat  in  holy  unison  all  hearts. 
O  Babe  of  Bethlehem  !  to  Thee  we  owe 


84  HOME. 

Home's  dearest  ministries  and  purest  bliss. 
Not  less  with  mortal  pleasures  innocent, 
Than  mortal  pains  and  tears,  thy  loving  heart 
Hath  sympathy,  for  Thou  art  Goodness'  self ! 

Next  for  the  household  comes  the  opening  year 
With  greetings  fervent,  wishes  true  dnd  kind, 
From  each  to  each,  of  countless  happy  days  ! 
With  the  old  year  deep  buried  all  neglects, 
Now  friendship's  record,  as  on  a  fresh  page 
Unsullied,  the  New  Year  once  more  begins. 
As  with  a  chastened  tenderness,  farewell 
Is  said  to  the  departed  months,  whose  round, 
On  Time's  great  calendar,  has  been  fulfilled. 
Age,  ripe  in  piety,  with  faith  confirmed, 
All  thankfully  recalls  the  past,  yet  still 
Looks  onward  to  the  Father's  House  on  high, 
Well  pleased  the  golden  gates  more  near  to  see. 
Childhood  and  youth,  exultant,  note  how  fast 
Years  bear  them  forward  to  the  longed-for  scenes 
So  gorgeous  to  their  thought,  of  life's  broad  stage, 


HOME,  85 

On  which  parts  all  heroic,  as  they  dream, 
Wait  for  their  entrance,  pre-ordained  for  them ! 
Nowhere,  as  where  abides  domestic  love, 
So  richly  "  Happy  "  dawneth  the  New  Year. 

But  best  and  dearest  to  the  household  comes 
The  day  of  holy  rest;  God's  sabbath  day; 
From  the  world's  early  morning  consecrate 
To  piety  and  peace,  to  prayer  and  praise, 
And  all  the  sanctities  of  worship  paid ; 
To  pleasures  such  as  days  of  toil  know  not ; 
To  love,  the  grace  that  the  whole  law  fulfils  — 
Mother  of  virtues  —  of  all  thoughts  and  deeds 
That  to  the  pure  in  heart  divinest  seem, 
And  e'en  to  earth  some  semblance  lend  to  heaven. 
With  the  fresh  morn,  while  grateful  stillness  reigns — • 
Stopped  the  great  treadmill  of  the  world  awhile  — 
Parents  and  children  meet  with  greetings  kind 
Around  the  wonted  altar.     The  calm  hour 
No  haste  demands ;  and  first  to  heaven  ascends 
In  one  sweet  harmony,  from  joyful  lips, 


86  HOME. 

The  Hymn  that  to  the  ear  of  Love  divine 
Tells  of  each  heart's  deep,  fervent  thankfulness, 
More  welcome  than  frankincense.     Then  the  sire, 
Priest  of  the  family  by  God  ordained, 
From  prophet  old,  or  Psalmist,  words  of  life 
Reads  reverently,  as  if  afresh  they  came 
From  God's  own  lips  to  gladden  trusting  hearts ; 
Or  lessons  from  His  mouth  who,  Light  of  men, 
Spake  as  no  mortal  tongue  e'er  spake  besides  ; 
Or  from  the  story  of  his  mighty  deeds, 
His  lowliness,  and  grace  that  reached  to  all, 
His  shameful  cross  and  wondrous  sacrifice ! 
Then  at  the  mercy-seat  together  bowed, 
One  tender  voice,  the  worship  of  all  hearts 
Pours  forth  in  utterance  simple  and  sincere ; 
Forgiveness  asks  for  common  faults  confessed, 
And  praise  heartfelt,  for  blessings  shared,  presents 
To  Him  without  whom  not  a  sparrow  falls ; 
Life,  health  and  comfort,  all  most  dear,  commit, 
For  coming  days,  to  his  p'er-watching  care  ; 
And  'neath  the  shadow'of  his  wings  to  dwell 


HOME.  87 

Entreats,  one  brief  request  including  all. 

So  pass  the  peaceful  hours.     From  morn  till  eve 

Pleasures  succeeding  pleasures  fill  the  day. 

When  the  glad  bells  up  to  God's  temple  call, 

With  one  consent  the  household  join  the  throng 

That  tread  the  hallowed  aisles,  their  hearts  the  while 

Drawn  to  each  other  closer,  while  they  rise  * 

Godward  in  prayer  and  song,  and  hear  the  word 

That  life  eternal  tells.     Then  home  returned, 

With  books  and  cheerful  talk  and  songs  that  stir 

All  pure  affections,  the  loved  day  they  close. 

Of  sabbaths  such  as  this  the  memories  kept 

Among  the  heart's  best  riches,  shall  remain 

Till  earth's  last  week  shall  end  and  brightly  dawns 

The  endless  sabbath,  the  sweet  rest  of  heaven. 

A  time  for  all  things  —  thus  the  wise  man  spake, 
And  —  beautiful  in  its  own  time  is  each. 
Not  always,  Edward,  round  thy  bounteous  board 
Will  greet  thee  youthful  faces  wreathed  in  smiles ; 
Not  always,  Mary,  will  thy  quick  ear  hear 


88  HOME. 

Mother  !  —  earth's  dearest  word  —  from  morn  till  eve 

Fall  lovingly  from  many  a  coral  lip. 

Ye  have  been  sowing  long.     With  line  on  line, 

Lessons  of  wisdom  and  of  heavenly  truth, 

No  season  lost,  it  hath  been  yours  to  pour 

Into  fresh  opening  souls,  that  to  receive 

•j&Vhat  from  your  lips  distilled  were  ever  fain. 

Have  ye  not  sought  to  form  for  virtue's  tasks, 

To  shape  to  some  true  life-work,  these  the  sons 

And  daughters  given  from  God,  your  highest  trust? 

Draws  nigh  the  reaping  time.     What  most  your  hearts 

For  many  a  year  have  wished,  your  eyes  shall  see  — 

Your  children,  girded  for  life's  contests  high, 

By  Providence  led  forth.     For  this  ye  prayed. 

Arrows  not  always  in  the  quiver  rest ; 

Fledged  birds,  not  in  the  nest  for  ever  stay ; 

Arrow,  or  bird,  each  at  its  hour  must  fly. 

Onward  —  still  onward  —  is  the  call  divine 

That  all  of  mortal  birth  must  hear  and  heed. 

'Tis  so  that  pleasures  ever  new  are  born 

Out  of  new  issues  and  oft-shifting  scenes ; 


HOME.  89 

E'en  things  that  most  delight,  unchanged  should  sate 
From  sheer  monotony.     Thy  pleasures,  Home, 
Can  only  live  through  never-ceasing  flow  ; 
As  brooks  that  hasten  leaping,  babbling  on, 
Are  pure  as  crystal  ever ;  but  pent  up, 
Forbid  their  course  to  run,  do  stagnate  soon, 
And  with  green  ooze  breed  noisomeness  and  death. 
Ay,  parents,  send  them  forth,  as  God  shall  call  — 
Your  best  and  dearest  —  not  with  fainting  heart 
And  tears  regretful,  at  what  Home  must  lose ; 
But  thankfully,  since  unto  you  'tis  given 
To  God  and  man  offerings  so  rich  to  bring. 

The  gentle  Edith  ripe  in  maiden  charms 
Yet  more  and  more  the  magic  power  reveals 
Of  cultured  womanhood.     Not  wholly  lost 
The  witching  artlessness  of  childish  years, 
The  airy  freedom,  the  instinctive  grace, 
So  winsome,  till  by  fashion's  hateful  code 
To  chilling  stiffness  changed.     Radiant  she  moves 
Amid  Home's  cheerful  band,  in  beauty's  light, 


90  HOME. 

As  floats  a  planet  in  the  evening  sky, 

Bright  and  still  brightening  as  it  higher  climbs. 

No  bird  of  Paradise  of  plumage  gay, 

In  thought  or  wish  she  seems ;  no  trifler  weak, 

With  vain  conceit  inflate,  self-conscious,  quick 

With  fluttering  pulse  to  note  each  watchful  glance 

Of  kindling  admiration.     Such  as  these, 

Ye  who  would  find  may  seek  in  fashion's  halls, 

Where  dwell  not  Home's  simplicity  and  truth. 

Yet  on  her  brow  she  wears,  all  clearly  writ, 

Intelligence  ;  and  in  her  beaming  eyes, 

The  joyousness  that  tells  a  guileless  breast 

And  yet  unsounded  depths  of  hidden  love. 

Parental  hearts  grow  warm  at  sight  of  her, 

And  brothers  look  and  worship.     Oh,  there's  naught 

Can  touch  so  tenderly  the  restive  soul, 

Of  youthful  impulses  o'erflowing  full, 

And  urged  by  uncurbed  will  and  passion's  power 

The  tempter's  voice  to  heed  and  choose  the  wrong, 

As  a  fond  sister's  love,  that  wooes  and  wins, 

Attempers  what  is  wayward  unto  good, 


HOME.  91 

And  by  its  own  pure  effluence  maketh  pure. 
Thou,  Edith,  art  e'en  as  the  warm  south  wind, 
That,  from  the  lips  of  Spring  breathed  o'er  the  fields, 
Whate'er  is  loveliest  waketh  into  life 
With  silent  Power,  till  all  are  robed  in  bloom. 
While  Home  thou  blessest,  thou  thyself  art  blest. 

Goodness,  to  beauty  joined,  is  like  the  flame 
That  from  the  light-house  on  some  towering  cliff 
O'er  the  wild  waters  throws  its  beams  afar 
At  nightfall,  welcome  to  the  wanderer's  eye. 
Its  glory  streams  abroad,  nor  can  be  hid  ; 
But  many  an  eye  beholds  it  and  admires. 
Ah  !  maiden,  thou  that  in  thy  freshness  wear'st 
With  modesty  and  gentleness  and  grace 
The  charms  that  nature  gave  and  goodness  lends, 
With  power  these   charms  invest  thee  —  power  per- 
chance 

Beyond  thy  utmost  thought  —  to  scatter  wide 
Influence  that  light  and  guidance  both  shall  be 
To  many  a  heart  sincere,  that^so  inspired 


92  HOME. 

Shall  be  by  thee  to  nobler  virtue  won. 
The  power  to  bless  by  charming  —  wondrous  gift ! 
How  rich  who  hath  it !    How  made  like  to  God ! 
Woman,  this  most  exalts  thee  and  adorns  ; 
Gives  thee  a  sovereign  sway,  if  so  thou  wilt, 
And  makes  thee  as  a  spirit  of  the  skies. 

To  all,  such  Edith  seemed.     But  most  to  one, 
Young  Arthur,  from  her  childhood  playmate,  friend, 
Sharer  of  frolic  hours,  and  o'er  the  fields 
And  thro'  the  shadowy  woods,  when  summer  glowed, 
Leader  of  many  a  ramble.     Always  kind, 
Homeward  from  school  her  satchel  oft  he  bore, 
And  through  the  winter  snow  her  pathway  trod ; 
Or  cross  the  swollen  brook,  with  friendly  hand, 
By  the  rude  stepping-stones,  he  safely  led. 
With  changing  years  advanced  to  manhood  now, 
Transformed  he  seems,  yet  not  another  made. 
In  manners  courteous,  almost  distant  grown, 
Yet  is  he  near  her  oft,  with  calm  content 
On  his  fair  face  clear  written,  and  an  eye 


HOME.  93 

That  back  reflects  her  glance,  as  she  for  him 
And  he  for  her  some  secret  fain  would  guard ; 
As  if  by  some  keen  instinct  each  did  read 
The  other's  thought,  to  words  not  trusted  yet  — 
Not  uttered  in  full  phrase  —  yet  half  expressed 
Perchance  not  seldom,  by  some  act  or  look, 
Some  pressure  of  the  hand,  some  opening  bud 
Given  to  adorn  the  hair  and  meekly  worn ; 
Some  book  together  read,  or  some  soft  strain 
In  the  still  twilight  by  two  voices  sung ! 

There  is  a  time  to  love  !  —  a  holy  time 
When  from  deep  well-springs  in  the  throbbing  breast 
Gush  forth  affection's  purest,  richest  streams, 
And  flow  unchecked,  bearing  through  all  the  soul 
Mysterious  happiness  ;  when  fleet-winged  thought, 
As  finished  occupation  sets  it  free, 
To  the  loved  being  flies  and  lingers  long  — 
As  the  wild  bee,  tasted  the  nectared  cup, 
Delays,  and  yet  delays,  its  homeward  flight  — 
Or,  all  impatient,  in  the  busy  hour, 


94  HOME. 

Full  oft  it  plays  the  truant  and  escapes ; 

Forgets  all  time  and  distance  and  afar 

Seeks  the  secluded  walk,  or  well-known  bower. 

O  blissful  season  when  the  unfolding  soul 

Puts  forth  all  sweet  affections  !  when  bright  shapes 

And  visions,  of  imagination  born, 

And  yearnings  vague,  and  hopes,  and  wishes,  blend 

With  a  deep  restlessness,  that  is  not  pain, 

But  rather  seems  a  rapture ;  and  all  things, 

The  heavens,  the  earth,  life's  many  shaded  scene, 

Past,  present,  future  —  future  most — appear 

Glorious,  enchanting,  in  love's  aureate  light. 

So  in  some  grand  cathedral,  when  the  sun, 

Through  the  stained  windows,  his  full  lustre  flings 

On  priest  and  altar  and  the  reverent  throng 

Of  worshippers  that  crowd  the  solemn  aisles, 

Tis  as  a  new  Shekinah  filled  the  place, 

And  heaven's  own  splendors  threw  o'er  all  the  scene. 

She  is  betrothed  !    The  changeless  word  is  said  ! 
Two  souls  are  each  to  each  for  ever  bound  ! 


1   _ 


HOME.  95 

Is  freedom  then  abjured  —  for  bonds  exchanged? 

Arthur  and  Edith,  each  once  free  as  air, 

In  thought,  word,  feeling,  purpose,  aim,  and  end  - 

Sold  each  a  royal  birthright  when  they  sware 

Henceforth  to  have  one  name,  one  life,  one  lot? 

Or  hideth  seeming  loss  some  priceless  gain? 

By  somewhat  yielded  is  it  Heaven's  great  law 

That  the  young  heart,  with  conscious  need  disturbed, 

Must  find  its  fulness,  what  it  restless  craved? 

Bound  !    Bound  !     Ah  !    thou  that  doubting  askest  — 

know 

That  unto  thee  love's  mystery  as  yet 
Is  all  unopened  ;  thou  art  but  a  child  ! 
Thou  hast  not  learned  how,  in  the  blissful  sphere 
Where  love  triumphant  reigns,  a  soul  gains  most 
When  most  it  loses ;  that  when  giving  all 
It  takes  all  and  is  blest.     Two  hearts  made  one 
In  mystic  unity  of  trustful  love, 
Constraint  know  not,  nor  liberty  e'er  lack ; 
With  full  consenting  wills  as  one  they  choose ; 
Or  differing  aught,  for  this  alone  contend, 


96  HOME. 

How  each  to  other  first  and  most  may  yield  ! 

No  bonds  like  thine  do  bind,  O  heaven-born  love, 

Yet  as  the  angels  free  are  loving  souls  ! 

Edith  and  Arthur,  be  the  vernal  days 
Of  your  betrothal  arched  with  azure  skies 
And  glad  with  melodies  of  warbling  birds  ! 
Enchanting  be  the  twilights,  and  the  sheen 
Of  silvery  moonlight  on  your  evening  paths  I 
Taste  the  dear  joys  of  early  love,  and  wait 
In  ecstasy  delicious  for  the  hour 
When  at  the  bridal  altar  blest  ye  stand. 


^s* 


PART    IV. 


OH,  hush  the  song,  and  let  her  tears 

Flow  to  the  dream  of  her  early  years ! 

Holy  and  pure  are  the  drops  that  fall, 

When  the  young  bride  goes  from  her  father's  hall ; 

She  goes  unto  love  yet  untried  and  new  — 

She  parts  from  love  that  hath  still  been  true. 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

How  happy  he  who  crowns,  in  shades  like  these, 
A  youth  of  labor  with  an  age  of  ease  ! 
Onward  he  moves  to  meet  his  latter  end, 
Angels  around  befriending  virtue's  friend  ; 
Sinks  to  the  grave  with  unperceived  decay, 
While  resignation  gently  slopes  the  way  ; 
And,  all  his  prospects  brightening  to  the  last, 
His  heaven  commences  ere  the  world  be  past. 

Goldsmith. 


PART    IV. 

"^HE  bridal  came.     The  holy  vows  were  said. 

As  on  some  April  morn  the  changeful  sky 
Lets  fall,  e'en  through  the  sunshine,  fitful  showers, 
As  each  contending  which  the  hour  should  rule ; 
So  on  that  day  alternate  smiles  and  tears 
On  each  face  came  and  went.     O  Edward,  thou 
Thy  struggling  heart  in  vain  dost  strive  to  still ; 
Nor  canst  thou,  Mary,  when  the  sudden  flood 
Of  gushing  tenderness  o'erflows  thy  breast, 
Repress  its  heaving,  or  the  quivering  lip 
At  once  compose,  or  dry  the  moistened  cheek. 
To-day  a  priceless  jewel  ye  resign, 
That  has  adorned  your  casket,  flashed  for  you  ! 
A  heart  that  made  sweet  music  in  its  beat 
Of  harmony  with  yours ;  an  eye  whose  glance, 
To  you,  like  light  from  heaven,  bore  only  joy  ! 


100  HOME. 

Brothers  and  sisters,  from  your  blissful  bovver 
The  full-blown  rose  ye  loved  is  borne  away, 
Elsewhere  to  shed  its  fragrance.     Yet  grieve  not, 
As  those  who  miss  some  treasure  gone  for  aye. 
Love  chooseth  ever  what  the  loved  shall  bless, 
And  e'en  in  sacrifice  finds  sacred  peace. 
Edith  but  goeth,  at  the  will  of  Heaven, 
To  kindle  for  herself  a  household  flame 
Whose  light  afar  shall  shine.     Herself  on  all 
Who  in  her  bliss  are  blest,  not  less  henceforth, 
With  Arthur  at  her  side,  shall  gladness  shed, 
And  to  the  Home  she  leaves  shall  not  be  lost. 

As  some  prolific  tree  whose  boughs  with  fruit 
Bend  earthward,  yet  through  months  of  glowing  suns 
Keeps  all  its  treasure  till  the  harvest  hour 
Hath  come  at  last;  and,  ripening  once  begun, 
The  process  hastens  till  there  naught  remains 
Save  a  bare  gleaning  on  the  plundered  boughs 
That  look  all  lonely ;  so  the  Home  where  long 
Young  hearts  have  lingered,  clinging  each  to  each 


HOME.  101 

And  to  the  hearthstone  where  they  first  drew  breath, 
Must  see  them  parted  at  the  appointed  bound. 
When  comes  the  day  of  ripeness  and  the  spell 
That  held  them  one  is  broken,  soon  —  ah  !  soon 
The  bands  seem  loosened  all,  and  one  by  one, 
Mature  for  life's  high  calling,  goeth  forth 
With  many  a  backward  look  and  secret  pang ; 
Till  where  but  now  there  stirred  a  cheerful  throng 
Reigns  the  hushed  quietness  of  emptied  halls  ! 
'Tis  so,  O  Time,  that  thy  resistless  hand 
With  scene  on  scene  the  mortal  drama  fills.* 

Alfred  and  brothers  twain  too  soon  are  missed 
When  meet  the  household  band.     One  burning  heart 
Hath  kindled  into  generous  passionate  love 
At  Learning's  shrine,  by  names  illustrious  fired 
That,  shining  as  bright  orbs  through  ages  gone, 
Lit  up  the  darkness,  and  for  coming  time 
Together  blended  form  a  milky  way 
Glorious  as  that  which  spans  night's  ebon  vault. 

*  Appendix,  Note  D. 


102  HOME. 

In  cloistered  halls  he  hides  for  toilsome  years, 
Youth's  passion  curbs,  its  restlessness  subdues, 
And  e'en  as  if  to  Learning's  self  betrothed, 
Life's  busy  throng  forsakes  with  her  to  dwell. 
Another  to  the  marts  of  hurrying  trade 
His  steps  hath  turned ;  eager  to  tread  where  sweeps, 
Now  this  way  and  now  that,  the  surging  tide 
Of  rivalries  that  chafe  and  ventures  high; 
Where  men  for  gain  in  life-long  wrestlings  strive, 
Now  win,  now  lose,  and  oft,  ere  manhood's  prime, 
Its  sturdy  strength  wear  out  and  die  too  soon. 
Thrice  happy  they  whose  hearts  die  not,  nor  lose 
All  sweet  humanities,  though  years  be  long 
And  crowned  with  rich  successes  all  unstained  ! 
Turns  fondly  to  his  mother  earth  a  third, 
By  some  deep  impulse  urged  ;  and  far  away 
Toward  sunset  regions  he  hat'n  wandered  forth 
To  fix  his  dwelling  where  beyond  the  flood 
Broad  Iowa  her  billowy  bosom  spreads. 
There,  'neath  his  hand,  the  virgin  soil  shall  soon 
Grow  genial,  opened  to  the  mellowing  sun  ; 


HOME.  103 

Quicken  the  scattered  seed,  and  in  its  time 
Reward  the  sower  with  the  reaper's  joy. 
Around  the  new-made  Home  his  tasteful  hand 
New  beauties  shall  create.     Well  pleased  his  ear 
Shall  note  the  voices,  echoing  far,  of  flocks 
And  herds  that  'mid  abundance  graze  content ; 
Nor  need  he  envy  here  the  city's  din 
As  glide,  in  healthful  toil,  the  peaceful  years. 

Ah  !  Time,  at  once  giver  and  robber  thou  ! 
Ere  life  hath  reached  its  noon,  each  year  beholds 
Some  gift  possessed  made  richer,  or  some  grace, 
Some,  power,  or  pleasure,  all  anew  bestowed. 
But  high  noon  passed,  each  year  shall  filch  away 
Somewhat  of  beauty's  charm,  of  manhood's  strength, 
Of  lustre  from  the  eye,  and  from  the  ear 
Of  quickness  to  perceive  the  subtile  thrill. 
Thou  stealest  from  the  agile  limb  and  step, 
Elastic  beyond  art,  the  lithesome  spring  ; 
From  golden  locks,  or  raven,  their  bright  hues 
Thou  plunderest  silently,  till  all  are  gone ; 


104  HOME. 

And  keen  desire  and  love  of  high  pursuit 
And  buoyancy  of  hope  and  courage  firm 
And  aspiration  restless  evermore  — 
'Whatever  life's  great  tasks  made  seem  but  play  — 
So  stealthily  thou  takest,  that  the  robbed 
Scarce  note  their  loss,  or  noting  half  believe. 
Yes,  Edward,  thou  and  Mary,  yet  thine  own, 
Still  dear,  far  dearer,  than  when  thy  young  heart 
Felt  love's  first  pulses  beat,  are  not  the  same 
In  thought,  wish,  purpose,  taste,  or  mien  and  air, 
As  when  around  you  glowed  the  bridal  morn. 
The  brows  then  fresh  and  fair,  with  deeper  lines 
Are  furrowed  by  that  skilled  engraver  Time  ; 
Then  life  lay  all  before  you,  like  some  scene 
Of  rarest  beauty  to  the  eye  made  clear 
And  magnified  by  telescopic  glass  ; 
Now,  through  the  glass  inverted,  ye  behold 
Reduced  to  littleness  what  once  seemed  great, 
And  dimmed,  by  half,  the  glory  that  did  charm. 
Grown  calmer  and  more  wise,  ye,  well  content, 
Resign  your  old  ambitions,  pleased  to  dwell 


HOME.  105 

Amid  Home's  peacefulness,  and  with  such  tasks 

As  here  the  tranquil  days  may  best  beguile, 

To  wait  till  evening  shadows  gently  fall. 

Home  hath  not  lost  its  sweetness  —  its  content, 

Though  missed  the  cheerful  voices,  heard  of  old 

Echoing  through  hall  and  chamber ;  though  the  night 

Descend  in  solemn  silence,  where  so  oft 

At  close  of  day,  for  many  a  year,  did  float 

On  the  still  air  enchanting  harmonies. 

No  lonely  hearts  here  dwell,  that  do  but  live 

In  sad,  submissive  patience,  and  earth's  joys 

For  them  all  vanished  deem,  to  come  no  more. 

No  —  no  !     Not  such  the  transformation  wrought 
By  Time  and  Change,  though  wondrous  be  their  power. 
While  creepeth  stilly  on  life's  closing  scene, 
And  with  the  hoary  head  and  trembling  hand 
Come  signs  of  weariness,  and  for  itself 
Toil  seems  no  more  a  pleasure ;  yet  'tis  left 
On  the  fled  past  to  muse ;  and  still  to  find 
Companionship  in  books,  or  friends,  around 


106  HOME, 

The  evening  table  where  the  loved  were  wont 

Nightly  to  gather ;  or  at  will  to  sit 

Beneath  the  old  familiar  trees  that  hang 

O'erarching  by  the  door,  as  long  ago, 

And  seem  of  all  things  least  to  have  changed  with 

years. 

Ay  more  —  'tis  given  to  greet  the  oft  return 
Of  children  who,  to  filial  duty  true 
And  childhood's  fresh  remembrances,  come  back 
To  tread  again  the  haunts  for  ever  dear ; 
To  hear  grand-children's  prattle  and  to  watch 
Their  childish  raptures  as  on  grandsire's  knee 
They  drink  in,  all  attent,  the  well-told  tale. 
Thes.e  are  the  tranquil  pleasures  left  to  age 
When  towards  the  sunset  verges  life's  long  day. 
With  these,  deep  in  the  trustful,  loving  soul 
That  'mid  life's  turmoil  walked  by  faith  with  God, 
And,  far  above  earth's  ever  shifting  sands, 
Builded  on  solid  rock  immortal  hopes ; 
There  come,  as  night  draws  nearer,  glimpses  oft, 
And  blest  anticipations,  of  the  realm 


HOME.  107 

For  ever  fair,  beyond  the  rolling  spheres, 
Where  years  no  more  shall  ravish  youth  away, 
Nor  love  be  parted  from  its  loved  again. 

Edward,  thy  Mary's  voice  for  thee  has  lost 
Naught  of  its  sweetness;  it  delights  thee  still, 
Like  old  familiar  music.     On  that  brow, 
Mary,  that  in  its  manliness  did  charm 
Thy  girlhood's  eye,  not  less  thou  lovest  still 
To  gaze,  though  o'er  it  age  hath  spread  his  snows. 
Ah  !  richer  now,  in  either  breast,  the  flow 
Of  love's  pure  current,  than  when  ye  did  speak 
With  trembling  ecstasy  the  marriage  vow 
Before  God's  altar.     Then  that  current  welled 
From  confidence  and  hope ;  from  knowledge  now, 
And^mutual  virtues  tested,  till,  like  gold 
Fresh  from  the  crucible  and  proved  by  fires, 
They  shine  with  lustre  that  no  doubt  can  dim ; 
Blest  in  each  other,  ye  are  doubly  blest. 


108  .  HOME: 

Nor  are  ye  lonely  left.     One  daughter  still, 
Fair  Ella,  youngest  of  the  household  band, 
Like  some  bright  minister  of  heavenly  love, 
Each  morning  greets  you,  fresh  herself  as  morn, 
And  watches,  all  the  day,  if  she  may  read, 
In  look,  or  motion,  even  your  rising  wish  ! 
Or  with  some  sweet  surprise  may  light  a  smile 
On  your  calm  reverend  brows,  perchance  provoke 
To  merry  laughter,  never  hard  the.  task. 
A  kind  good-night  she  says  when  silent  hours 
Call  you  to  tranquil  sleep.     Good-morrow  sweet 
She  bids  you  with  each  dawn.     For  you  she  lives ; 

* 

Herself  forgets  ;  forgets  the  brilliant  halls 
Where  Fashion  holds  her  court,  ever  best  pleased 
With  acts  of  filial  duty  done,  she  seems. 
Nor  till  her  eyes  shall  see  you  pass  the  gates 
Of  life  eternal,  shall  aught  else  divide 
Her  constant  heart,  whose  every  beating  pulse 
Tells  that  for  you  her  very  life-blood  flows  ! 
O  faithful  love  !  that,  self-devoted,  deems 


HOME.  109 

All  toil  and  care  for  you  a  mighty  debt, 
And  to  the  utmost,  the  full  score  would  pay  ! 

Yes,  woman  !     Though  oft-times  to  thee  'tis  given 
Thy  heart-kept  hopes,  at  duty's  call,  to  yield 
All  cheerfully ;  for  God  and  those  that  else 
Were  left  forlorn  and  loveless,  thine  to  make 
The  lot  of  those  who  nobly  much  resign ; 
Though  thy  life's  course  be  like  a  modest  stream 
That  through  the  vale  in  grateful  coolness  winds, 
And  hidden  half,  with  tree  and  bush  o'erhung, 
Freshness  exhales  e'en  when  itself  unseen ; 
Though  Providence,  or  thine  own  choice,  deny 
The  household  throne  and  dear  connubial  bliss, 
Yet  beautiful  and  blest  thy  life  may  be  ; 
Rich  in  self-culture,  and  each  grace  and  charm 
Of  mind,  or  manners,  loveliest  in  all  eyes ; 
And  rilled  with  deeds  that  the  recording  pen 
Shall  chronicle  in  heaven.     The  world  yet  teems 
With   griefs   and  groans ;  with  pierced  and  bleeding 
hearts, 


1 10  HOME. 

To  stanch  whose  wounds  there  needs  the  hand  of  love  ; 

With  sin,  and  souls  debased,  and  dark  despair ; 

With  ignorance  perverse  and  error  blind ; 

With  mercy's  tasks  untold,  that  well  befit 

Thy  delicate  fingers  and  thy  facile  skill ; 

On  thee  it  calls,  and  wide  before  thee  spreads 

Such  fields  where  love's  best  triumphs  may  be  won,  , 

As  make  it  grand  to  live  and  toil  and  b£ar. 

If  thou  wilt  be  a  trifler,  deep  the  shame  ! 

If  frivolous  and  vain,  with  all  the  gifts 

Of  God  conferred  to  make  thee  seem  divine, 

Demons  must  clap  their  hands  in  fiendish  glee, 

And  pitying  Goodness  turn  in  tears  away  ! 

Be  a  true  woman,  whatsoe'er  thy  place, 

In  solitude,  or  crowd,  or  youth,  or  age, 
* 

And  life  shall  be  to  thee  no  joyless  waste, 
But  rich  in  pleasures  that  sate  not  the  soul. 
Thyself  revere ;  nor  suffer  without  need 
Thy  robes  to  draggle  in  the  common  dust ! 
Be  as  God  wo*uld  —  in  thine  own  sphere  a  sun, 
And  round  thee  glorious  planets  shall  revolve, 


HOME.  Ill 

Glow  in  thy  light,  and  life  and  comfort  find. 
So  shalt  thou  bless  thy  kind,  and  all  shall  gaze 
Admiring,  and  like  Parsees  worship  thee  ! 

As  in  late  autumn,  when  the  frosty  earth 
With  withered  leaves  is  strown,  the  forests  bare, 

And  many  a  signal  tells  drear  winter  nigh, 

• 
Comes  Indian  Summer  with  her  gentle  reign 

,» 
And  charms  which,  tempered  by  the  golden  haze, 

Half  veil  and  half  transfigure  Nature's  face 

That  with  pale,  pensive  beauty  still  delights, 

As  peacefully  go  by  the  tranquil  days ; 

So  while  age  ripens,  and  when  whitened  locks 

And  the  dimmed  eye  and  faltering  step  forewarn 

That  not  now  distant  lies  the  vale  of  shades 

Earth's  darkness  parting  from  eternal  day, 

Full  oft  there  comes  a  season  all  serene, 

Whose  sunshine  mellowed  falls,  whose  airs  are  mild 

As  softest  breath  of  May,  whose  tempests  sleep, 

Whose  peace  is  like  the  Sabbath  stillness,  when 

A  hushed  world  waits  and  worships.     'Tis  as  if 


112  HOME. 

O'er  the  calm  spirit  silently  there  steals 

Some  effluence  celestial,  that  inbreathed, 

As  from  the  throne  of  God,  a  baptism  seems 

Of  love  divine,  before  the  mortal  strife, 

The  waiting  soul  from  ties  of  earth  to  free, 

And  heavenward  lure  her  towards  her  coming  bliss. 

'Tis  in  this  hallowed  time  that  Edward  now 
And  Mary,  side  by  side,  like  ripened  sheaves 
With  yellow  grain  rich  laden,  bide  the  hour 
When  the  great  Husbandman  with  faithful  care 
Shall  bring  them  to  his  garner.     Ella's  hand, 
With  love's  instinctive  gentleness,  delights 
To  bear  for  them  each  burden,  and  each  day 
Some  pleasure  new  to  bring.     The  furrowed  brow, 
Soothed  by  her  touch,  seems  ever  half  to  lose 
Its  look  of  weariness  ;  and  at  her  voice, 
Whose  tones  are  cheering  as  the  morning  lark's, 
The  languid  eye  grows  brighter ;  and  the  ear  • 
Tires  not  that  listens  to  her  pleasing  talk, 
Or  readings,  that  beguile  the  loitering  hours  ; 


HOME.  113 

The  genius  of  the  place,  she  lives  and  moves 
Like  some  kind  ministering  spirit  of  the  skies, 
Sent  forth  the  aged  pilgrims  Home  to  lead. 

But  mortal  years  must  end.     Mary,  thy  cheek 
So  touched  with  crimson  once,  now  paleness  wears ; 
Falter  thy  footsteps  on  the  lengthened  path 
Where  thou  of  old  didst  tread  like  the  gazelle 
That  scaleth  with  fleet  limb  the  mountain  side  ; 
Faintness  invades  thy  heart,  so  wont  to  beat 
With  ardor  healthful  and  with  purpose  brave. 
Beside  thee  bends  thy  Edward's  reverend  head ; 
Grieved  not  for  thee,  so  soon  to  see  His  face 
Whose  beauty  to  behold  ye  both  have  pined ; 
But  for  himself,  that  he  may  not  as  yet 
Enter  within  the  veil,  but  without  thee, 
Still  in  the  outer  court  must  linger  lone. 
Thy  children  too,  Edith  and  Arthur  soon, 
Then  those  who  dwell  afar,  in  hurried  haste, 
With  Ella,  -gather  in  the  chamber  hushed, 
And  watch  the  failing  pulses.     O  dread  hour, 


HOME. 

When  hearts  long  loving  and  in  love  made  one 

Are  each  from  other  rudely  rent  away  ! 

Yet  Faith  can  triumph  here,  and  calmly  say  — 

"  Thy  will  be  done  !  "  can  hear  the  symphonies 

Soft  floating  on  the  air,  from  unseen  harps, 

That  welcome  to  the  invisible  host  of  God 

Another  sister  spirit,  pure  and  free  ! 

She  is  translated  —  and  with  Christ  abides  ! 

Edward,  not  long  shall  Earth  detain  thee  now ! 
Her  lights  grow  dim,  and  like  a  vision  fade 
Her  transient  glories  ;  heavenward  look  thine  eyes. 
Thou  wouldst  not  linger,  and  the  hour  is  nigh 
When  thou  shalt  hear  kind  voices  bid  thee  —  come  ! 
And  see,  beyond  the  flood,  thy  Mary  stand 
With  arms  outstretched  to  beckon  thee  away  ! 
Then,  Ella,  thy  dear,  loving  hand  shall  close 
Thy  father's  dying  eyes ;  that  placid  brow 
With  thy  last  filial  tears  thou  shalt  bedew, 
Thy  filial  tasks  all  done.     Then  farewell  Home  ! 
Thy  Home  from  infancy,  through  long,  long  years, 


HOME.  115 

Whose  histories  upon  thy  soul  are  writ. 

As  if,  with  iron  pen  and  diamond  point, 

Graved  on  the  eternal  rock.     Go,  thou  true  heart, 

Well  trained  by  duty  for  all  holiest  deeds  ! 

Go  forth  where  sin  lays  waste  and  sorrows  spring, 

And  round  thee  scatter  gladness,  light,  and  joy  ! 

In  thee  let  it  be  seen  that  woman,  true 

To  love's  best  impulses,  must  needs  command 

All  honor  from  the  world,  by  all  revered. 

So  shall  thy  name  enshrined  in  grateful  hearts 

Be  as  a  jewel  kept ;  and  thou  at  length 

Shalt  hear  the  Ever-blessed  say  —  Well  done  ! 

And  pass  the  threshold  of  thy  Father's  House, 

The  HOME  OF  HOMES  where  changeless  love  abides ! 

O  haste  the  happy  day  when  o'er  the  world  — 
The  wide,  wide  world  —  bright  altar  fires  shall  burn 
On  household  shrines  all  countless  as  the  sands ! 
When  homeless  thousands  shall  no  more  be  found 
Far  scattered  without  shepherd,  wandering  sheep 
Unpitied,  left  of  savage  beasts  the  prey  ! 


Il6  HOME. 

Ye  who  with  ruthless  hand  would  madly  tear 
From  the  chaste  maiden's  brow  the  marriage  wreath, 
The  sanctities  destroy  that  God  ordained 
To  guard  domestic  joys  ;  the  springs  would  taint 
Of  pure  affection  and  foul  lust  unchain 
To  work  its  will  till  Homes  are  known  no  more ; 
Could  the  base  wish  succeed,  the  race  undone, 
And  conscious  of  its  wrong,  on  you  would  pour 
Its  curses  without  measure  —  well  deserved  ! 
Religion's  ministers  !  lift  up  the  voice 
Qn  your  high  watch-towers,  and  assert  His  law 
Who  to  unbind  what  God  hath  joined  forbade. 
Statesmen  !  loose  not  with  sacrilegious  hand 
The  holy  tie  without  which  perish  Homes. 
Know  that  when  Homes  shall  perish  states  shall  fall, 
And  earth,  e'en  as  the  nether  world,  be  hell ! 
The  citadel  of  hope  for  earth  is  Home  ; 
Home  the  best  type  that  earth  affords  of  Heaven. 
t 

Yes !  though  like  all  beneath  these  changing  skies, 
The  joys  of  Home  abide  not ;  though  itself 


HOME.  117 

By  its  own  law  dissolve,  when  circling  years 
Have  finished,  one  by  one,  its  shifting  scenes, 
And  sundered  far  the  hearts  once  closely  knit ; 
All  ends  not  here.     Hath  not  the  Master  said 
That  iri  his  Father's  House,  for  loving  souls 
Are  many  mansions,  whither  safely  led, 
And  made  one  family,  they  shall  with  Him 
Their  Elder  Brother  dwell,  for  ever  one? 
There  the  great  anti-typal  palace  waits, 
Thronged  with  the  sons  and  daughters  of  our  God 
Made  like  unto  the  angels ;  and  the  feet 
Of  all  the  pure  in  heart  shall  thither  come. 

V 

O  mortal !  whatsoe'er  thy  lot  hath  been, 
If,  half  bewildered,  thou  hast  seemed  to  stray 
A  homeless  wanderer  o'er  a  barren  waste, 
If  one  that  much  hath  loved  and  much  hath  lost, 
Or  one  that  loveth  much,  and  much  doth  fear 
What  most  he  loves  to  lose  ;  let  thy  stilled  soul 
Repose  itself  in  peace.     Though  on  thy  head 
Fierce  tempests  frequent  beat,  and  all  too  oft 


Il8  HOME. 

Clouds,  dark  o'ershadowing,  veil  the  cheerful  skies, 
And  gloom  brood   o'er  thy  path ;  though  round  thy 

steps 

Perils  thick-clustering  wait ;  though  cares  oppress, 
And  each  day  hath  its  strifes,  and  Sorrow  pours 
From  her  exhaustless  flagon  for  thy  lips 
Full  cups  of  bitterness  ;  though  life's  best  joys 
Seem  half  to  lose  their  sweetness,  and  no  more 
Enkindle  keen  desire,  nor  yield  delight 
To  the  tired  sense,  worn  with  the  round  of  years  ; 
Still  be  thou  calm  !     Be  strong  and  falter  not ! 
Teach  thy  chafed  spirit,  that,  in  weariness, 

Pants  for  her  rest  and  longs  for  wings  to  soar 
.  * 

To  kinder  skies  beyond  this  land  of  storms, 
Her  restless  thoughts  to  stay ;  and  in  the  strength 
Of  Hope,  that,  like  the  needle,  trembling  oft, 
Is  steadfast  still,  to  wait  the  coming  hour 
When  she  well  pleased  the  mystery  sh'all  read 
Of  earth's  stern  disciplines.     Then  on  thine  eyes, 
Beaming  with  life  immortal,  full  shall  break 
The  wonders  hidden  long.     Then  Love  Divine 


HOME.  119 

Wide  open  the  effulgent  gates  shall  fling, 

And  bid  thee  enter  ;  there,  beside  the  throne 

Where  sits  the  Lamb,  shall  show  thee  the  bright  Home, 

For  Hiip  and  his  for  ever  dear  redeemed 

Builded  of  God  ere  yet  the  worlds  were  made. 

Lift,  lift  thy  glance,  O  mortal,  troubled,  sad, 

And  lose  thy  griefs  and  fears  in  thoughts  of  Heaven ! 

There  wait  thee  solid  joys.     What  most  thy  heart 
Hath  yearned  to  find,  yet  ever  sought  in  vain 
Through  perished  hopes  and  crosses  ever  new  — 
Sweet  rest,  with  full  content  —  thou  there  shalt  know. 
Thy  cup  of  blessing  filled,  thou  shalt  behold 
Divinest  splendors,  all  things  bright  and  fair ; 
With  which  compared,  earth's  purest  loveliness 
Remembered  shall  all  unsubstantial  seem, 
A  shadow  and  a  type.     Thy  treasures  lost, 
By  stern  Death  'wrested  from  thy  warm  embrace, 
Now  clothed  in  spiritual  beauty  and  complete 
In  all  celestial  graces,  still  thine  own, 
There  thou  again  shalt  find.     Theirs  the  old  love, 


120  HOME. 

Changed  only  as  made  richer  in  its  flow 

And  deeper  far ;  as  if,  checked  for  a  time 

By  separation,  it  the  while  had  swelled, 

Till  ready,  like  a  flood,  to  force  its  way. 

These  shall  such  greeting  give  thee  as  shall  thrill 

Thy  raptured  spirit,  ne'er  again  to  know 

Unquenched  affection's  thirst ;  while  high  above 

Thou  seest  writ  in  words  of  flashing  light : 

"  No  pang,  no  death,  no  partings,  evermore  !  " 

Heaven  !    'Tis  no  misty  dream.     What  mortal  eye  — 
Unlifted  yet  the  veil  —  hath  never  seen, 
Nor  can,  with  keenest  glance  ;  what  mortal  ear, 
Though  listening  all  attent,  hath  never  heard, 
Even  in  faint  echoes,  God  himself  hath  shown 
To  loving  hearts  and  true.     By  visions  clear 
And  words  celestial,  whispered  soft  and  sweet 
In  the  rapt  spirit's  depths,  revealed  have  been 
Mysteries  of  life  and  beauty,  love  and  joy, 
That  from  of  old  await  the  sons  of  God, 
Their  heritage,  reserved  till  their  glad  feet 


HOME.  121 

Shall  pass  thy  gates,  Jerusalem  the  New  ! 

In  Thee,  O  Holy  City,  crowned  with  grace, 

Builded  of  gems  imperishable,  with  walls  * 

Of  adamant  that  sin  and  woe  debar, 

O'erarched  by  skies  serene  without  a  sun, 

And  watered  with  pure,  living  streams,  that  flow 

For  ever  from  beneath  the  Mount  of  God  — 

In  Thee,  fulfilled,  and  more,  each  promise  stands. 

Nor  this  alone.     For  lo  !  the  Lamb  himself 
From  the  eternal  throne  —  where  w  in  the  midst 
As  one  that  hath  been  slain  "  He  yet  appears, 
Wielding  all  princely  power  o'er  earth  and  Heaven, 
With  "  many  crowns  "  on  that  once  bleeding  Head  — 
Full  oft  descends,  with  gentlest  mien,  to  walk 
All  lovingly,  a  Bridegroom  with  his  Bride, 
Rejoicing  o'er  her  in  her  bridal  robes, 
White  as  the  light  and  lustrous  as  the  sun.* 
In  dear  companionship  amid  the  throng 
By  his  own  pangs  redeemed,  now  tenderly 

*  Appendix,  note  E. 
& 


122  HOME. 

He  talks  of  Golgotha,  the  tomb,  the  morn 
When  the  rent  sepulchre  resigned  its  trust, 
And  He  triumphant,  first-born  from  the  dead, 
Death's  sceptre  broken,  trod  the  earth  again ; 
When  his  own  saw  Him,  heard  Him,  and  believed 
That  He,  whom  on  the  tree  they  saw  expire 
In  agony  and  shame,  was  LORD  OF  ALL  ! 

Ah  !  how  their  blessed  spirits  now  respond 
In  rapturous  praise,  and  thanks,  and  burning  love  — 
Love  that  not  blindly  burns,  like  theirs  of  old 
Who  to  Emmaus  walked  —  while  heavenly  words 
Fall  like  soft  music  from  those  lips  divine  ! 
His  glory  they  behold,  that  glory  share, 
Even  as  on  earth  he  said.     All  human  grace 
With  the  full  Godhead's  dignity  combined, 
And  lowly  gentleness,  enrobed  He  seems 
With  beauty  infinite  !     They,  all  intent, 
And  ravished,  gazing  on  his  unveiled  face  — 
O  vision  long  desired  —  themselves  transformed 
And  in  his  likeness  made,  exultant  see ; 


7  \ 

HOME.  123 

To  know  as  they  are  known  supremely  blest. 
He  feeds  them  —  He  whom  seraphim  adore  ! 
He  leads  them  where  eternal  fountains  rise, 
That  they  may  thirst  no  more ;  and  from  the  eyes 
That  wept  on  earth  so  oft,  his  loving  hand 
All  tears  hath  wiped  for  evermore  away. 


(• 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


NOTE    A. 

XJOTHING  could  well  be  more  uncandid  than  the  representa- 
tions of  a  certain  class  of  writers  in  their  attempts  to  dis- 
parage the  Fathers  of  New  England.  It  is  not  wonderful  that 
some  errors  of  past  ages  and  of  their  own  age  were  still  revealed 
in  them.  It  is  not  strange  that  having  left  their  native  land  and 
endured  all  sacrifices  for  the  sake  of  enjoying  their  own  opinions 
unmolested,  they  should  have  been  sensitive  to  the  intrusion  of 
new  elements  of  strife.  That  they  misjudged  and  acted  wrongly 
in  some  particulars  is  readily  to  be  admitted.  But  that  even  their 
faults  "  leaned  to  virtue's  side "  only  ill-nature  and  prejudice 
can  deny. 

"  It  was  in  self-defence,"  says  the  historian  Bancroft,  (History 
United  States,  p.  463)  "  that  Puritanism  in  America  began  those 
transient  persecutions  of  which  the  excesses  shall  find  in  me  no 
apologist ;  and  which  yet  were  no  more  than  a  train  of  mists  hover- 
ing, of  an  autumn  morning,  over  a  fine  river,  that  diffused  freshness 
and  vitality  wherever  it  wound.  The  people  did  not  attempt  to  con- 
vert others,  but  to  protect  themselves.  They  never  punished  opin- 
ion as  such;  they  never  attempted  to  punish  or  terrify  men  into 
orthodoxy.  The  history  of  religious  persecution  in  New  England 


128  APPENDIX, 

is  simply  this  :  The  Puritans  established  a  government  in  America 
such  as  natural  justice  warranted,  and  such  as  the  statutes  and  com- 
mon law  of  England  did  not  warrant ;  and  that  was  done  by  men 
who  still  acknowledged  the  duty  of  a  limited  allegiance  to  the  parent 
state.  The  Episcopalians  had  declared  themselves  the  enemies  of 
the  party,  and  waged  against  it  a  war  of  extermination.  Puritanism 
excluded  them  from  its  asylum.  Roger  Williams,  the  apostle  of 
"  soul  liberty,"  weakened  the  cause  of  civil  independence  by  im- 
pairing its  unity ;  and  he  was  expelled,  even  though  Massachusetts 
always  bore  good  testimony  to  his  spotless  virtues.  Wheelwright 
and  his  friends,  in  their  zeal  for  strict  Calvinism,  forgot  their  duty 
as  citizens,  and  they  also  were  exiled.  The  Anabaptist,  who  could 
not  be  relied  upon  as  an  ally,  was  guarded  as  a  foe.  The  Quakers 
denounced  the  worship  of  New  England  as  an  abomination  and  its 
government  as  treason,  and  therefore  they  were  excluded  on  pain 
of  death." 

Elsewhere  (Vol.  I.  p.  454)  Mr.  Bancroft  writes,  —  "  Some  of  the 
Quakers  were  extravagant  and  foolish.  They  cried  out  from  the 
windows  at  the  magistrates  and  ministers  that  passed  by,  and 
mocked  the  civil  and  religious  institutions  of  the  country.  They 
riotously  interrupted  public  worship ;  and  women,  forgetting  the 
decorum  of  their  sex  and  claiming  a  divine  origin  for  their  absurd 
caprices,  smeared  their  faces  and  even  went  naked  through  the 
streets"  It  was  for  these  gross  violations  of  public  order  and 
decency  and  the  rights  of  other  people,  and  not  for  their  religious 
opinions,  that  they  suffered. 

The  historian  further  says :    "'The  effects  of  Puritanism  dis- 
play its  true  character  still  more  distinctly,  .  .  .     Puritanism  was  a 
life-giving  spirit ;  activity,  thrift,  intelligence  followed  in  its  train ; 
and  as  for  courage,  a  coward  and  a  Puritan  never  went  together.' 
Again,  the  same  pen  writes,  —  "  Of  all  contemporary  sects  the 


APPENDIX.  129 

Puritans  were  the  most  free  from  credulity.  ...  So  many  super- 
stitions had  been  bundled  up  with  every  venerable  institution  of 
Europe,  that  ages  have  not  dislodged  them  all.  The  Puritans 
at  once  emancipated  themselves  from  a  crowd  of  observances. 
Hardly  a  nation  of  Europe  has  as  yet  made  its  criminal  law  so 
humane  as  that  of  early  New  England.  A  crowd  of  offences  was 
at  one  sweep  brushed  from  the  catalogue  of  capital  crimes."  So 
other  standard  historians. 

It  is  a  sin  alike  against  the  memory  of  the  greatly  good  and 
against  truth  and  Christian  charity,  to  attempt  to  hide  beneath  a 
few  mistakes  the  most  exalted  virtues. 


NOTE    B. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  race  have  everywhere  exhibited  strong  social 
affections,  and  among  them  have  been  found,  to  a  greater  extent 
than  among  those  of  any  other  race,  examples  of  well-ordered, 
intelligent,  and  virtuous  homes.  But  even  in  England  the  number 
of  such  homes  in  proportion  to  the  entire  population  is  small. 
They  are  not  relatively  numerous  beyond  the  circle  of  the  aris- 
tocracy of  rank  and  wealth.  But  among  the  Anglo-Saxon  popula- 
tion of  our  older  States  the  proportion  of  such  homes  is  large. 
You  can  hardly  go  into  any  respectable  looking  farm-house  in 
Massachusetts  or  Connecticut  without  finding  on  the  parlor  table, 
along  with  the  Bible,  the  works  of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Addison, 
Johnson,  Cowper,  Wordsworth,  and  other  eminent  writers,  and 
seeing  many  other  indications  of  a  degree  of  intellectual  and  social 
culture  not  extensively  found  among  the  common  people  of  any 
other  land. 


10  APPENDIX. 


NOTE    C. 

The  writer  believes  most  fully  that  he  has  not  overstated  this 
matter  in  the  text.  The  desire  for  the  intellectual  development  of 
their  children,  so  that  they  may  become  qualified  to  bear  some 
honorable  part  in  the  great  activities  of  life,  is  one  of  the  strongest 
of  parental  instincts.  Our  fathers  shewed  how  powerful  it  was  in 
them  by  founding  schools  and  colleges  almost  before  they  had 
secured  for  themselves  the  ordinary  comforts  of  life  ;  and  with 
patient  care  they  began  the  course  of  education  in  the  family. 
Yale,  Harvard,  and  other  institutions,  not  only  originated  in 
parental  solicitude,  and  tastes  and  impulses  nourished  in  the 
household,  but  are  largely  dependent  on  these  to-day,  and  always 
must  be. 


NOTE    D. 

The  dissolution  of  the  family  by  the  going  forth  of  its  younger 
members  one  by  one  to  the  tasks  of  life,  though  it  is  always  a  sad 
process  in  itself,  has  yet  its  compensations.  The  happiness,  the 
enduring  welfare  of  the  child,  becomes  to  the  thoughtful  parent  the 
paramount  consideration.  When,  therefore,  children  go  forth  from 
beneath  the  paternal  roof  under  favorable  auspices,  the  pang  of 
surrendering  them  is  materially  mitigated  ;  and  if  they  are  seen 
living  usefully  and  well,  and  especially  if  they  rise  to  eminence 
among  the  wise  and  good,  parents  cannot  but  find  in  this  a  rich 
and  abiding  satisfaction  that  in  large  measure  compensates  for  the 
loss  of  their  society. 


APPENDIX.  131 


NOTE    E. 

The  poet  Burns,  though  he  went  to  an  early  grave  the  victim  of 
his  own  appetites,  exhibited  often  an  exquisite  appreciation  of  what 
was  morally  beautiful  and  touching.  In  one  of  his  letters  he 
writes  that  he  could  never  read  without  tears  the  following  text 
from  the  New  Testament  :  — 

"The  Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed 
them,  and  shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  waters;  and 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 


Cambridge:  Press  of  .John  Wilson  and  S<>n. 


HYMNS   AND    POEMS. 

BY  RAY  PALMER,  D.D. 
i6mo.     Beautifully  printed.     Cloth,  gilt  edges.     $1.75. 

"  This  volume  will  be  welcomed  by  all  who  can  appreciate  the  pure  style  and  chastened 
flow  of  devotion  by  which  the  poems  are  marked.  Tens  of  thousands  will  recognize  the 
hymn  with  which  the  volume  opens, 

'  My  Faith  looks  up  to  Thee, 
Thou  Lamb  of  Calvary,' 

as  an  old  favorite.     Quite  a  number  of  the  others  only  need  to  be  known  to  be  iji  like 
manner  appreciated."  — N.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"  The  author  has  the  soul  of  poetry  in  him,  and  we  are  right  glad  to  have  his  verse  in 
this  beautiful  setting.  Pure,  rich,  musical,  devotional,  and  true,  not  a  line  but  what 
honors  Christ  and  blesses  men."  —  N.  Y.  Observer. 

"  Nearly  every  piece  in  this  beautiful  volume  will  strike  the  reader  with  some  special 
claim  to  a  pleasant  remembrance."  —  Congregationalist. 

"While  we  think  the  author  pre-eminently  successful  in  his  utterance  of  Christian 
experience  '  for  the  service  of  Song,'  his  other  poems  evince  high  appreciation  of  the  beauty 
of  nature,  and  embody  the  tenderest  and  best  affections."  —  New  Englander. 

By  the  same  Author. 

HYMNS  OF  MY  HOLY   HOURS, 

AND     OTHER    PIECES. 

BY  RAY   PALMER,  D.D. 
\6rno.     Beautifully  printed.     Cloth,  gilt  edges.     $1.50. 

"  Reverent,  tender,  rich  in  ripened  faith,  saturated  with  the  very  sentiment  of  a  per- 
vading and  healthful  piety,  sweet  in  their  melody,  and  strong  in  their  upward  impulse, 
they  will  multiply  and  illuminate  the  holy  hours  of  their  readers  as  they  bring  away  the 
spirit  which  marked  the  hours  of  their  author."  —  Morning  Star.  % 

"  In  this  new  contribution  to  our  treasures  of  Sacred  Poetry,  we  recognize  the  same 
sweetness  and  unction  will)  which  the  author's  previous  Hymns  and  Poems  had  made  u« 
familiar."  —  Evangelist. 

PUBLISHED   BY 

ANSON  D.  F.  RANDOLPH  &  COMPANY, 

770  Broadway,  corner  ofgth  Street,  New  York. 


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ON   THE 


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ADDRESSED    ESPECIALLY   TO 


YOUNG    MEN   AND     WOMEN    OF 
CHRISTIAN  EDUCATION. 

BY  RAY   PALMER,  D.D. 
12mo.     26$  pages.     Cloth,  plain,  $1.25  ;  gilt,  $1.75. 

"  A  series  of  earnest,  able,  and  eloquent  addresses,  designed  to  reach  the  growing 
minds  of  young  men  and  women  who  have  been  brought  up  under  religious  influences, 
and  who  yet  have  formed  for  themselves  no  decided  standards  of  truth  and  duty  by  which 
to  confirm  their  own  faith  and  repel  the  attacks  of  scepticism  and  error.  It  is  well  calcu- 
lated to  meet  the  young  mind  in  the  period  of  its  active  inquiry  into  the  great  themes  of 
God,  the  soul,  and  religious  duty."  —  51.  5".  Times. 

"The  style  is  easy,  even  when  the  argument  is  vigorous,  and  requires  close  attention  ; 
and  the  whole  tone  of  the  volume  is  candid,  its  spirit  admirable,  and  the  aim  of  the  authoi 
is  so  far  above  that  of  the  mere  theological  polemic  that  prejudice  is  almost  sure  to  be 
disarmed,  and  the  work  is  likely  to  win  by  sympathy  where  it  could  not  triumph  alone 
by  argument.  ..."  —  Morning  Star,  N.H. 


PUBLISHED   BY 

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770  Broadway,  corner  of  gth  Street, 
NEW  YORK. 


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